


The Crush That Never Was

by stillgold



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Matchmaking, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 97,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8107918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillgold/pseuds/stillgold
Summary: All Neymar had to do was introduce his sister, Rafaella, to Messi, the most popular athlete in college. Except now everyone thinks Neymar likes Leo.





	1. Lost Bets and Lost Pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/gifts).



“So you want me to introduce you to Leo?” Dani looked dubious.

Neymar flushed. He knew how clever Dani was, how he hid it behind a wall of playfulness, taking life one day at a time, enjoying, as he said, “the good crazy”. But he knew Dani was coming to the wrong conclusion here: he thought that Neymar liked Messi, but it wasn’t like that.

But he couldn’t explain it to Dani. It would be betraying his sister’s confidence. Rafaella was obsessed with Messi. He’d taken her to a college football game two years ago when she was a freshman and he was a senior in high school. Apparently, Leo had been the star at that game, but Neymar had been too busy making out with his girlfriend behind the bleachers the whole time and he hadn’t noticed.

Since then, Rafaella had talked endlessly about Messi. Neymar paid little to no attention. He knew Messi was a pretty incredible football star, but he didn’t care or notice because Neymar himself wasn’t sporty. He was into music and he and his friends spent many weekends travelling to the city to watch obscure bands.

Secretly, Neymar wished he could sing, but he was terrible. He sang anyway, off-key and pitchy, tone-deaf to a criminal degree. It was the surest way to get anyone out of his room.

But he was stuck now. Last weekend, he’d made the mistake of betting his sister that he’d be able to get a pretty girl’s number. He’d been so confident. She’d seemed to be into him. He usually always got the number. He’d even thought he’d won the bet because she _had_ given him her number.

Until, of course, he called it and found it was a sex hotline.

That had sucked.

So he’d lost the bet fair and square. The terms of the bet had been simple: the loser owed the winner a favour, to be called any time at any place, no matter the circumstances.

When he told Rafaella he’d lost—he was honest, after all, and it was only fair—his sister had leaped. She’d barely waited a second before blurting, “I’m cashing in my favour. You have to introduce me to Messi.”

Neymar had been dumbfounded. “What? I don’t know him!”

“You go to the same college!”

“Yeah, so?” Neymar cried, truly anxious. The rules of the bet declared that the winner couldn’t not fulfill the terms of the bet, but he _really_ didn’t want to do this. He didn’t even _know_ Messi and he’d never even seen him. Besides, his sister was in high school and Messi was a junior at college! It was highly inappropriate. There was a four-year gap between them, at the very least!

Rafaella crossed her arms. “You lost fair and square. You owe me. This is what I want.”

Neymar hesitated. What she said was right, but he couldn’t in good conscience let his sister date a college student when she was still in high school. “But you’re so you—”

Rafaella held up a hand. “I’m not asking you to get him to ask me out. I just want to say hi to him. Please, Ney. You know how much I love him.”

Neymar looked at her face searchingly. He didn’t like this. But she made a good point. Just because he introduced them, it didn’t mean Messi would like her. He probably had a girlfriend, being the star he was. Why would he want to date an underage high school girl? Besides, he could probably step in if it went that far, put an end to it.

All she was asking for was an introduction.

Surely that wasn’t too hard?

And that was how he’d gotten into this mess. But he couldn’t possibly explain this to Dani. A sibling’s trust was sacred. No matter how much he hated Rafaella right now, he couldn’t possibly tell Dani. She would never forgive him if he did.

Neymar sighed. Dani was going to think he had a huge crush on Messi. But what could he do? Dani was his only connection to Messi. Dani played football with him and he also occasionally showed up at the music clubs Neymar visited. He was Brazilian too, like Neymar, and the two had unexpectedly bonded over music and terrible singing.

Dani was a good friend. He was a senior at college, a couple years older than Messi. He’d had to redo a few semesters after he’d gotten suspended for getting into fights with some racist kids who’d thrown bananas on the field while he was playing.

He’d always treated Ney like a younger brother and he’d also introduced Neymar to more Brazilian guys. And they had become some of Neymar’s truest friends in his first couple of years at college. Some of them played football too, but others were purely into the music scene.

“I… yes,” Neymar said, clearing his throat. God, this was embarrassing.

Dani started to smile. His eyes were twinkling. Neymar’s heart sank. Good God, Dani’s matchmaker heart was going to ruin him, wasn’t it?

“Alright,” Dani said, a broad grin on his face. He winked at Ney.

Neymar suppressed a groan. He was going to _murder_ Rafaella. “Thanks,” he mumbled, flushing harder and harder, making him look all the more like he was in love with Messi. He sighed. “When can you make it happen?”

Dani waggled his eyebrows. “So eager, huh?” Without giving Neymar a chance to recover from that, he laughed and continued, “Some of the guys are going out on Friday to the Bar. Come there and I’ll introduce you two.”

Neymar nodded. The Bar—certainly the least creative name for a bar—was where most of the athletes hung out. He’d been there once, but hadn’t liked it. There were always sports games on and someone yelling at the TV. It was boring. He gritted his teeth. Friday couldn’t come sooner.

 

* * *

 

Neymar was nervous.

He had picked out his best outfit—a long black shirt, baggy white pants tucked into ankle boots, long dangling chains, and a hat he was wearing backwards. He knew he looked good, but he was well aware that Messi and co. were the elite, some of the most popular people at his college. Despite himself, he felt his heart pounding a little.

Trying to wipe his sweaty palms surreptitiously on his pants, he waited at the bar, foolishly ordering shot after shot. After his third one, he blinked at his buzzing phone and saw Dani’s text.

_Where you at_

He texted back quickly.

_At bar. Where you guys_

He ordered another shot while he anxiously waited for the reply. When his phone buzzed, he took a deep breath and downed the shot before looking at his phone.

_Booth by the bathroom. Can you see us_

Neymar looked, standing up and peering over the crowd. He wasn’t very tall and this wasn’t made easier by his four shots. When he finally saw Dani’s leopard-print pants, he took a deep breath and headed over.

He felt someone pinch his butt and briefly wondered whether he should be outraged. But his nerves were jangling and he didn’t think he could fight anyone on a good day without backup so he continued on his way. By the time he had fought through the crowd, his heard was thudding so hard that he felt faint.

Dani, luckily, noticed him coming over and leapt up. Slinging an arm around him in welcome, he turned to the rest of the group and smiled broadly. “Guys,” he shouted over the pounding music, “this is my friend, Neymar. Ney.”

Neymar smiled as easily as he could, trying to fake coolness. He wondered which of the guys sitting around the booth was the famous Lionel Messi. There were four guys. One was a tall, very-good looking blond. He was leaning back comfortably, looking confident and vaguely like a model. He smiled at Neymar politely, his blue eyes glinting under the bar lights.

The guy on his right also had blue eyes and was clearly very tall, even sitting down. He had a beard and a playful look. He grinned at Neymar. He towered over the guy sitting next to him. The short guy was small with a dimpled chin and black eyes. He looked quiet and was no match in looks with the other two guys. He nodded at Neymar, but made no other welcome.

Ney looked quickly at the next guy, who had a nice-guy-face. He was smiling in welcome. He was good looking in a not-so-obvious way with a beard and dark eyes. He was sitting surprisingly close to the short, quiet guy and Neymar briefly wondered if they were together.

Dani was shouting names, but Neymar couldn’t hear him over the din and he heard ‘Messi’ but missed Dani’s finger pointing at the owner of the name. Cursing, he felt too embarrassed to ask again and instead slid in to the empty space next to Mr Nice Guy. He was directly opposite Model Dude and found himself staring. Surely this was Messi? He was so incredibly good looking and confident.

He berated himself inwardly. He should have just googled him before tonight. Maybe he could do it now, under the table? But at that exact moment, Nice Guy turned to him.

“What’s your name?” he asked, flashing a smile.

Neymar blinked. The alcohol had dulled his senses a little and he felt slightly slower than usual. “Neymar,” he shouted.

“I’m Kun,” Nice Guy said, teeth white and brilliant.

So, not Messi. Ney was pretty sure Model Dude was Messi now. Kun seemed friendly so he leaned in and said, “What were their names again? I couldn’t hear over the noise!”

Kun laughed. “That’s Marc-Andre, but we call him Marc.” He indicated Model Guy. Disappointed, Neymar turned hopefully towards to the next tall guy. “That’s Gerard, Geri. And this one,” Kun said, clapping his neighbor hard on the shoulder. The short guy looked up, looking bored. “This is Lionel. Leo.”

Neymar stared. This was Messi? This was the hot guy his sister, Rafaella, was dying over? _This_ guy? Was his sister blind? He was nothing special. He wasn’t even cute, for God’s sake. He wondered if he should take his sister to an eye doctor.

Leo looked inquiringly at Kun. Kun said something in another language to Leo. It sounded like Spanish, but Ney wasn’t sure. And then Leo laughed and a dimple showed up. Ney kept staring. He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even good looking smiling. Maybe this was another Leo? Maybe there was another Leo, who was a Messi?

His sister had waxed lyrical about a boy with dimples, true, but if this was hot, then Ney was on fire. He wondered if he should ask Kun if this was Messi, but felt it might be a little too embarrassing. He might look like a fanboy.

Instead he subsided, his brain buzzing. He really wanted some clarification here, but Dani had disappeared to the bar. Before he could start to feel awkward, a shadow fell across the table. Looking up, he saw a short, broad-chested guy standing in front of the table.

He had shaved all his hair off and he had a thoroughly mean look about him. He was staring at Neymar and not especially nicely. Ney instinctively placed his hands protectively on his crotch.

“You’re in my seat,” the guy said bluntly. _Get up_ was unsaid, but implied.

Neymar almost scrambled up, but his reflexes were slower because of the four shots which were progressively making him drunker and drunker. In retrospect, that had been a big mistake. Before he could move, Geri laughed.

“Sit down, Masche, you’re scaring the poor guy. Here,” and he began to scoot over, pushing himself into Leo and tugging on Marc’s arm.

Marc moved over willingly and they all made room for Masche. He made scary eye contact with Neymar for a couple of seconds for good measure and then sat down, resuming his glare. Ney swallowed.

Luckily, Dani came back just then, bouncing up happily. “How’s everyone doing?” he sang, his eyes roaming around the table. His gaze settled on Kun and Neymar instantly knew what was going to happen.

He tried desperately to make eye contact with Dani, trying to signal that he didn’t want this. But Dani was an incurable matchmaker and in another second, had deftly extricated Kun from between Ney and Leo, pulling him away on some half-baked excuse.

Neymar felt sweat beading on his forehead. He was starting to think this was a very, very bad idea. Besides, he really needed to eat something. Those shots had been stronger than he’d thought and his vision was starting to swim.

At the corner of his eye, he could see that Leo was looking at his phone. He didn’t seem interested in talking to Neymar at all. Occasionally Geri would lean down and tell him something and Leo would laugh, but otherwise he made no effort to socialize.

All of Ney’s doubts had flown out of the window when Dani had whisked Kun away and now he knew this really was Messi. But he still couldn’t quite fathom what his sister was thinking. It was so baffling, in fact, that he texted his sister.

_Wtf this guy is not good looking_

The reply was instantaneous. She’d known he was going to meet Messi tonight and she must have been waiting to hear from him.

_You’re blind he’s HOT_

Neymar felt befuddled. Were they all talking about the same guy? This guy was average, at best. _At best_.

_Are you sure it’s Messi you like_

_Yes idiot. Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean everyone else is_

Neymar was blind? _Neymar_ was blind? Shaking his head, doubt creeping inside of him, he texted again.

_Are you sure it’s the football dude? The short guy? Butt chin?_

Her reply was succinct:

_Fuck yeah_

Fuck yeah? Neymar couldn’t resist himself and he raised his eyes in amazement, staring at Messi. Maybe he stared too long because Messi lifted his head and met Neymar’s gaze coolly, his gaze challenging.

And, suddenly, Neymar understood. Leo wasn’t good looking, but the aura he exuded was power. Neymar wondered suddenly if it was because he was so popular and so talented, or if he’d always had this self-assurance, this quiet confidence. As Leo’s dark eyes met Ney’s hazel eyes, Ney felt convinced that Messi had always had this self-possession, a kind of confidence you can’t teach someone. He was… Dangerous, almost.

Neymar shook his head inwardly. Dangerous? He was just a football star in a mid-tier college. What could be dangerous about him? But as they continued to look at each other, Ney couldn’t shake the feeling that the little man in front of him was different from anyone he’d met before or, for that matter, would ever meet.

Finally, Messi must have had enough. “Yes?” he asked coldly. His eyes were dark and fiery and Neymar wondered how it could be both.

“Sorry,” Ney stammered, realizing he’d been staring for far, _far_ too long. “I was daydreaming.”

It was a lie and they both knew it, but Messi let it pass. He looked Neymar over, quietly, almost condescendingly. “What’s your name?”

He didn’t shout, but for some reason Neymar could hear him loud and clear. “Neymar.”

Leo was silent, just looking at him and Ney burst into pressured speech, unable to take it. “I’m a friend of Dani’s. We go to Bells in the city a lot together. We’ve known each other for a while.” He chattered on for a while until Messi’s expression eased.

Finally, Leo interrupted. “Okay,” he said. And then dropped his head back to his phone.

Neymar knew he’d been dismissed. He also realized that he’d passed some test. He didn’t know what had done it, but he suspected being Dani’s friend had helped. He’d noticed that whenever Messi looked at Dani, his expression was soft and affectionate.

As Neymar began to calm down, he met Geri’s gaze. Geri looked amused. He lifted his glass, silently toasting Neymar, and then drank deeply.

Wondering if Geri was mocking him, Neymar flushed and looked at Marc. Marc was smiling kindly at him. God, he was handsome. He also looked safe. Why couldn’t his sister like this guy? Sighing inwardly, he looked at his watch.

He had a long night ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

Neymar spent most of the evening being silent and just watching everyone. It was unlike him, but he felt hopelessly out of his depth here. He didn’t understand half of the inside jokes. They also talked a lot about football, which, frankly, held no interest for Neymar.

It would have been easier if Dani had stayed, but he was hitting on a beautiful, tall girl who Neymar recognized from one of his classes. Her name was Joana or something like that. Dani whispered drunkenly to him that he was going to marry Joana and Neymar nodded, patting him on the shoulder.

Drunken confessions were a part of college life. How real they were remained to be seen. The cold light of day was usually enough to break the deepest of loves and Ney was too experienced to take something like this seriously.

He didn’t speak to Messi at all and started to feel increasingly desperate. Marc, the incredibly good-looking blond, seemed to take pity on him and asked Neymar to come along with him when he went to the bar. Ney followed, feeling awkward and frustrated.

He expected Marc to ask him something, but he seemed content with silence. They stood at the bartender quietly until Marc got the pretty brunette bartender’s attention. She blushed prettily when he smiled at her and quickly served them their drinks.

When Marc turned back to Ney, he asked simply, “Do you want to stay here for a while or go back to the booth?”

Neymar was surprised. He hadn’t expected Marc to be so perceptive. Hesitating, unsure if he should be honest, he was saved by Marc smiling. “Let’s stay here!” He winked at Neymar and they moved down the bar until they found empty bar stools.

Marc sat with easy grace and confidence. He sipped his beer comfortably, a German brand that Neymar had tried and found disgusting. He offered a taste to Ney who politely declined. He had chosen a cocktail himself. It was green and delicious.

“Do you like football?”

Neymar straightened his spine. He almost chirped a yes, but looking at Marc’s blue eyes, his shoulders slumped. “No,” he said honestly. Something about Marc made Neymar want to be truthful. He grinned. “I hate it.”

Marc laughed a long time at that. “So what’re you doing here?”

Neymar hesitated. “I can’t say.”

Marc’s eyes roamed Neymar’s face. “Well, good luck with Messi,” he said finally, sipping his beer.

Ney’s eyes rounded. “How—”

“Everyone knows. Messi knows you have business with him too. Maybe you should just be honest with him. He’s actually a good guy. He’ll probably help you out.”

Neymar felt his stomach flip. Everyone knew? He felt miserable and embarrassed suddenly. “I can’t. It’s not my secret to tell.”

Marc considered this. “Well. That’s a bind,” he said, laughing softly. Instead of getting offended, Neymar felt vaguely comforted. There was something about Marc that was incredibly likeable, very soothing.

Neymar laughed too. “Trust me to get in these kinds of situations.”

They both chuckled at that, as if they’d been friends for ages and Neymar had a history of getting into similar scrapes. They sat for a while in companionable silence until, finally, they headed back. Marc clapped Neymar’s shoulder hard in encouragement and Ney’s eyes watered from the pain for the next ten minutes.

The plus side of that was that he was too much in pain to feel nervous about rejoining the group. He actually was so distracted that he sat next to Masche, who glared hard at him and then, very pettily and obviously, moved about two inches away.

Offended and embarrassed, Neymar turned away, his eyes still prickling from the pain and looked at Geri. Geri wasn’t even bothering to hide his amusement, openly laughing at them both. Irritated, Neymar downed his cocktail, hoping to regain his buzz which had slowly started slipping away.

To his surprise, Geri leaned forward. “Hey, Ney, you done here?”

The entire table fell silent at that. Even Messi lifted his eyes from his phone to look at Neymar. His face was in shadow so Ney couldn’t make out the expression, but he was pretty sure Messi was probably looking at him haughtily.

“I… what?”

“Do you have a ride back?”

Ney shook his head. He was too broke for a car.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Geri said, jerking his head.

Neymar was genuinely taken aback. “No,” he stammered, “that’s alright, I can get myself home.”

“What, you want to stay longer? It’s getting boring.”

Neymar looked around. The Bar was still very much alive and it was only just past midnight. But he looked at Geri and suddenly realized it wasn’t a polite offer, but a command of sorts. “Er,” Neymar said. “No, yeah, I’ll come with you. Thanks.”

Geri smiled and winked. Neymar didn’t smile back, wondering what was going on. Everyone was so weird here. Rafaella was going to _pay_.

Geri seemed to know everyone. As he left the bar, moving slowly through the crowd, dozens of people clapped his back or shook his hand. He actually waved like a celebrity at the door and Neymar felt a tiny bit proud that everyone would see he was leaving with Geri.

The night air was cool and deafeningly quiet after the din in the Bar. Geri stood for a second, looking up at the sky, and then he turned to Neymar, his hands in his pocket and smiled delightedly, enthusiastically as if he was just happy to be alive.

Neymar found himself feeling equally happy. Geri’s inner joy was infectious. People had always told Ney that he had a kind of joy that touched everyone and made them joyous too, but he’d never understood it. Now, looking at Geri, he got it.

“Come on,” Geri beckoned, smiling broadly. He gestured towards his car and Ney was unsurprised to find a sleek black, very expensive looking car.

“Nice ride,” he said admiringly, his fingers trailing the car lightly. He got in and sat on the leather seats, feeling slightly envious.

“Thanks,” Geri said absently. He was fiddling with his phone. He placed it aside and flashed a smile to Neymar. He turned the car on and drove off in a roar.

Geri drove like Neymar knew he would: rashly, expertly, dangerously. Neymar buckled himself in immediately and prayed he wouldn’t die. Geri talked casually as if they weren’t close to seeing the pearly gates.

After a few minutes of this, Geri braked at a red light, giving Neymar some time to breathe. “So you like Leo?”

Neymar whipped around. “What? No!”

Geri grinned. “No big deal if you do, dude. I don’t judge.”

Neymar stuttered in horror. “No, I don’t!” He could hear his voice was shrill and knew, with a sinking feeling, that Geri wasn’t going to believe him.

Geri shrugged, smiling. “Okay, okay, relax. You don’t like him.” But he winked at Ney slyly. Sighing, Ney shook his head. He was going to have to make friends with Messi fast because he wouldn’t be able to handle this bunch of weirdos for a lot longer.

To be fair, though, he usually _was_ the weirdo in the group. He just felt completely uncomfortable with these guys, these athletes. He had never been the cool kid, not in high school and not in college. It was weird to hang out with them—they were so self-confident and assured, certain of being liked everywhere they went. Ney didn’t live like that and he felt very insecure in the face of all this confidence.

Geri’s self-assurance was almost cocky, but endearingly so. He was also so happy that it was difficult to resist him. Neymar knew that, in any other circumstance, he’d probably become best friends with Geri because they seemed similar in their personalities, but he was too nervous tonight to really be himself.

“So Messi and I are hosting a party next weekend,” Geri suddenly said, smirking at Ney. “Do you want an invite?”

Ney almost choked in excitement. This was it! “Can I… bring someone?”

That surprised Geri. “Who?” he said, snapping his head around. It was clear he thought Neymar was single.

“My sister.”

For a second, Geri’s face went blank. “Your sister? She’s in our college too?”

“Nooo,” Ney hedged, feeling nervous. He wondered if this might be a strike against him. “She’s in high school.”

Geri rolled his eyes. “Neymar.”

“Please, Geri!” Alcohol loosened Neymar’s tongue, made him beg. “Please. She would be so excited.”

Geri waved his hand. “Fine, fine, bring her. Although, what’s your deal, man? Why would you wanna bring your sister when—” He trailed off, gesturing.

Neymar swallowed. He had to play this just right. Geri had to continue to believe he was still into Messi so that he could get an invite and he also had to believe that Neymar bringing his sister along wasn’t going to impede his ‘seduction of Messi’.

“I want her to see what a college party is like before she goes to college. And I’ll be able to keep an eye on her this way.” He hoped this older-brother-protective-nonsense sounded convincing to Geri.

Gerard frowned, but nodded. “But how will you talk to Leo?”

Neymar flushed. He couldn’t believe people legitimately thought he had a crush on Leo. He wasn’t even attracted to the guy! Besides, he had a casual relationship with a girl from his class. They only called each other after midnight for… activities, but still. He wasn’t looking for anything serious.

“I… My sister likes football. So it won’t be too weird, I guess.” That wasn’t an answer, but he hoped it would distract Geri.

Geri said nothing, still frowning. Then his expression cleared and he exclaimed, “Tell you what! We can drop your sister off early and that way, you can have time with Leo without your sister there.”

Neymar’s mind was blank. He couldn’t think of a single reason not to agree with this. Forcing a smile, he said through gritted teeth, “Great.”

Geri smiled delightedly at Neymar, who suppressed a sigh. What Geri, Marc and Dani actually were doing was really sweet, especially considering he had just met the first two—if only Ney was actually into Leo. Nevertheless, he smiled at Geri and fell silent, gripping his seat tightly as the car took a particularly tight turn.

Just one more weekend and he would be done with this nonsense.

 


	2. Rafaella and the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the party and Neymar's so anxious he can't handle it. Is Messi going to ignore his sister too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry for taking so long, but my wrist has been bothering me (carpal tunnel, woo) so i had to postpone posting this chapter. thank you so much for all the lovely comments and messages! what a confidence boost. :) enjoy the chapter!

Neymar was endlessly grateful that he lived near college and not at home with his sister. She would have driven him mad. As it was, he woke up to twenty-three texts and six missed calls, all from Rafaella. Sighing, he made himself a huge cup of coffee before calling her back.

Before she could pester him for details on how Leo smelled or something equally disturbing, Neymar opened with, “We’re invited for a party at Messi’s apartment next weekend.”

Rafaella screamed so loud that Neymar cursed himself for not putting her on speakerphone. Mourning the loss of hearing in his right ear, he tapped the screen, pressing the speaker button and allowing her cries of delight to fill his dorm. Luckily, his roommate was away for the weekend.

“NEY, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOUUUU, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUUU!”

Despite himself, despite his ringing right ear, despite the fact that everyone now thought he liked Leo, despite all the trouble she’d put him through, Neymar grinned. “Are you done—” But when she continued screaming, Neymar laughed, rolling onto his stomach and listened contentedly to his sister.

Just one more week. It wouldn’t be so bad.

 

* * *

 

It was much worse.

Rafaella pestered him nonstop for days and days. First she asked him what she should wear. He initially texted back that she could wear whatever she wanted, but then panicked and sent a series of texts saying that it would be cold and maybe she should wear long sleeves and a sweater.

That made her mad and she called him up and lectured him on the importance of a woman being allowed to dress as she pleased. She was right, of course, and a thoroughly sheepish Neymar had to apologise repeatedly before she was satisfied.

Then she started sending him pictures of herself in various outfits. She looked fine in all of them and so his feedback mostly consisted of:

_Yeah that works_

_That’s fine_

_Looks good_

_Yup that’s great_

She eventually gave up and stopped sending him pictures. His relief was short-lived, however. Soon she had started texting him things like:

_Is my smile weird?_

_Do I walk funny?_

Thoroughly baffled by this line of conversation, he finally lost his temper late at night on Wednesday when he was working on an important essay, and she’d continued pressing him on her walk even after repeated efforts to convince her that her gait was normal.

Calling her up, he let her have it. Ranting nonstop for a few minutes, he only stopped when he realized she wasn’t saying anything back. When he angrily asked if she was still listening, she replied in a very small voice, “I’m sorry. I just really like him.”

Neymar sighed. “I know. It’s okay. But I really have to work on this essay.”

“Okay. So I really walk okay?” Before Neymar could yell again, Rafaella burst out laughing. “Just kidding!” she said in a singsong voice. “Work on your essay. We’ll talk later! Good night. I love you.”

Irritated, Neymar hung up. He finished his essay in a distracted fashion, finding that thoughts of the party had started infiltrating even _his_ mind. He had tried not to think about it. But his sister’s constant reminding had made that nearly impossible.

He was nervous. On top of the fact that he apparently liked Leo, he was worried about his sister. She was so in love with Messi that she could easily be very disappointed. He didn’t want to see her hurt. If Leo ignored her the way he’d ignored Neymar, she would be heartbroken and upset. Ney didn’t want that. But he didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

The worry grew over the next couple of days until Dani texted him on Friday night to say he’d pick Ney up on his way to the party the next night. Rafaella was being driven up by a friend who wanted to check out the college so Neymar asked Dani if he could bring Rafaella along in Dani’s car once she arrived at college. Dani readily agreed.

And that night, Neymar dreamed that he was wearing a white wedding dress, but his veil was on fire. He kept trying to bring everyone’s attention to his burning veil, but everyone kept shushing him and fussing over the long train of his dress.

Panicking, he made his way up the aisle to his groom. When he saw it was Leo, he made to turn back, but his two bridesmaids, Geri and Dani, had firmly grasped each of his arms and forcibly marched him to the altar. Nervously, he explained to Leo that he couldn’t get married because his veil was on fire, but Rafaella took a cup of ice water and threw it at Neymar’s face.

Leo, meanwhile, hadn’t looked at Neymar. He seemed unaware or uncaring that he was getting married and that his bride was standing next to him. He certainly didn’t seem to care that Ney had been on fire. As Neymar stood there, gasping, shivering in the cold, he raised his hands, screaming, “I don’t want to get married!”

And that’s when Messi turned around and his face was monstrous. His eyes were black, huge, and frightening. He placed his hand on Neymar’s neck and began to choke and choke and choke.

Neymar woke up like that, his hand on his chest, gasping for air. Luckily, he’d never had any propensity for seeing into the future or else he’d pack his bags right now and get on an airplane and never look back again.

Instead, he got out of bed at 4 am on a Saturday and went to the gym.

At least he’d look good while dying, right?

 

* * *

 

Dani didn’t tease Neymar on the way to the party, mainly because Joana was in the passenger seat and he was thoroughly distracted by her presence. He could barely drive; his hands kept sneaking to her long, bare, brown legs. When his hand started moving in a suspicious manner, Neymar studiously trained his eyes outside the window.

Rafaella felt no such embarrassment and kept craning her head from the backseat to look at them before nudging Neymar and collapsing into silent giggles. Neymar tried shushing her, but she refused to listen. She was on a high at the prospect of meeting Messi and nothing could calm her.

He wished he was like her. She was bouncing, hyper, wildly happy, while he was getting grimmer and quieter and more and more anxious. If it wasn’t for Rafaella, he wouldn’t have been nervous at all. But he was worried that Leo would be his… usual self.

If he hurt Rafaella, Neymar would… do nothing. He sighed inwardly. What could he do? He was a small fish—and they were the sharks. He just had to be there for Rafaella if anything happened.

Dani and Joana told them to go up to the apartment by themselves. Guessing correctly that they wanted to make out in the car, Neymar pulled a giggling Rafaella into the elevator. The apartment building was glittery and swanky and it was evidence of how wealthy Leo was. Where did he have all this money from?

By the time they were outside Messi and Geri’s door, Rafaella had quieted and she was holding Neymar’s hand and standing a little behind him. He tried to pull her in front, but she refused, half-hiding behind him.

For some reason, even though Ney knew it was Leo’s place, he was taken off-guard when the man himself opened the door. Messi was exactly as Neymar remembered, wearing a plain tight white shirt and black knee-length shorts. His eyes were blank and his face expressionless until he saw Rafaella.

Neymar tugged her forward and said, “H-hey. This is my little sister, Rafaella. She’s a senior in high school.” For good measure, he added pointedly, “She’s seventeen.”

Rafaella moved even closer to Ney and said nervously, “Hi.”

To Neymar’s eternal shock, Leo’s entire face softened. He smiled warmly. “Hey, I’m Leo.” He extended a hand and Rafaella instantly smiled, her eyes full of awe as she shook hands with him.

“Come on in,” Leo said, smiling. He waited for Rafaella to step in in front of him, completely ignoring Neymar.

Ney followed timidly. And then abruptly stopped short, jaw falling open. Leo was _rich_. Or Geri was. He didn’t know whose money had funded this place, but the apartment was _incredible_. It was large, roomy, with floor-to-ceiling windows and beautiful modern furniture. Neymar had never cared about interior decoration, but he suddenly desperately wanted to live in this apartment.

“Wow!” Rafaella exclaimed, equally mesmerized and turning in a circle. “Your house is so beautiful!”

Leo smiled down at her, hands in his pockets. “Thank you. Would you like a tour?”

They were a little early to the party—or perhaps the party hadn’t yet gotten into the flow of things because there were only a few people milling about. Geri was nowhere in sight and he didn’t recognize anyone else. He felt vaguely relieved—maybe he could arrange Rafaella’s exit before drunken athletes started acting inappropriate.

“Oh, yes!” Rafaella was glowing in happiness, her eyes full of adoration as she looked at Leo.

Neymar winced inwardly. There was no way Leo could miss that she liked him, but he seemed to take it totally in stride.

Leo winked at Rafaella and Neymar could actually _see_ her redden. “Come on, then.” He still hadn’t spoken to or acknowledged Neymar’s presence but Neymar was damned if he was going to let his sister go into some random guy’s bedroom alone when she was still underage. So he followed, feeling awkward but determined.

Leo took them to his bedroom first. They walked down a roomy hallway and, at the end of the hall, was his room. Unsurprisingly, it was neat and looked almost like football had thrown up on it. His sheets were a club’s crest, and Neymar could read _Un Club_ but couldn’t see the first couple of words from where he was standing. He also had pictures of Maradona and Marta on his wall. And in one corner of the room was a glass case full of balls, trophies and ribbons.

Neymar was puzzled by the fact that he stored balls next to his trophies, but Rafaella jumped and clapped her hands.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “Are those all your hattrick balls?”

“What’s a hattrick ball?”

Rafaella sent him a withering look, but Leo looked amused. His eyes met Neymar’s for the first time full on and he answered evenly, “You take the game ball home when you score a hattrick.”

“Oh!” Neymar felt a little foolish at Rafaella’s disgusted glance.

Leo laughed at Neymar’s expression, and turned to Rafaella. “Yep. All hattrick balls.”

“How many?” But she was already counting. “12!” She turned to face him, jaw dropped. “That’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Do you want to see something cool? Come with me.” He beckoned.

She followed him excitedly. Neymar shuffled along in their wake, feeling like an idiot. Messi walked to what appeared to be a door and opened it, showing them his huge walk-in closet. Neymar would have liked to spend more time looking at Messi’s awful shoe collection—and what on _earth_ was that yellow polka-dot shirt?—but Leo made a beeline to a massive closed cabinet at the edge of the room and opened it. Inside, there were at least 20 more balls. He turned around and smiled shyly, proudly.

Rafaella appeared speechless. “What? Are those hattrick balls too?”

Leo nodded, laughing. “I store most of them in here. It’s embarrassing to—” he waved his hand, unwilling to finish the sentence. “But nobody gets to see them. You’re one of the few, actually.”

Rafaella flushed with happiness, almost glowing in joy. Neymar leaned against the wall and watched Leo take out ball after ball, describing each game and how he’d won. Sometimes, he couldn’t remember, but other times, he knew every single minute in detail.

Leo seemed content to talk to her, gave no sign of being bored. Rafaella was animated, happy, bouncing. Her meeting with Leo had gone exactly the way she’d dreamed of it, bar the kissing part. But that wasn’t going to happen under Neymar’s watch anyway.

They spoke for so long that Ney actually slid down and sat down on the floor of Leo’s decadent walk-in closet. It was all football talk so, bored, Neymar pulled out his phone.

But he would remember this moment: that he felt his sister was so safe with Leo that he could turn Snapchat on without a second thought.

 

* * *

 

Rafaella’s friend came to pick her up from the party about an hour later. Most of that hour had been spent with Leo, who, instead of taking them back out to the party, kept both Neymar and Rafaella in his bedroom, talking football and matches. He was brotherly towards Rafaella, respectful of her as she spoke, his eyes thoughtful as they spoke. He was never dismissive and when he teased, it was so gentle that even Rafaella laughed.

Neymar, who was largely ignored, tuned in briefly every now and then to the conversation and was amazed over and over again. Did Leo have a double personality? Did he have an evil twin who Neymar had had the misfortune to meet? The contrast was like night and day. It was astonishing.

Nevertheless, when Rafaella finally had to leave, Messi walked her to the door and hugged her. He then brushed past Ney as if he didn’t exist, disappearing to go sit on the couch.

Neymar, so relieved that the bet was over and that he was _off the hook_ and that they had both emerged unscathed, was drunk with euphoria. Flushed with success and convinced he’d never have to see these confident jocks anymore, he drank and drank and drank. Knowing that this was the end of their friendship, Neymar let loose in a way he hadn’t done the first time he’d met them. He was his usual self: mischievous, loud, unselfconscious, laughing, and the life of the party.

He and Geri, as he’d predicted, became instant friends. They were the centre of all the attention, centre of the dance floor, of all the inside jokes, of every single crazy thing happening at that party. Their combined insanity was irresistible; they were the party favourites, the hit—and they knew it.

They danced together, wildly, passionately. Neymar was reckless, fearless—nothing could go wrong and if it went wrong, he would just never see them again so _nothing could go wrong_. It was a dangerous way to live but it was only one night and what could happen? Who could he hurt?

He was introduced to a mild-mannered fellow named Iniesta, who seemed like nothing, but even Geri listened to everything he said so Neymar was careful to be respectful. Masche had surfaced a little after midnight—convincing Neymar that he probably _was_ a vampire—and he seemed to hate Ney as much as the first time they met.

Ney shrugged inwardly. He didn’t _care_. Masche could go fuck himself.

Not, of course, that Neymar would say this publicly. This was an in-the-deepest-recesses-of-your-mind type of sentiment. You didn’t say that shit out loud if you still wanted to tout a penis. Neymar was no fool.

But he was thrilled. He forgot all about Messi. A guy tried to rub up against Neymar and he let him. They danced together, sweaty, the music pulsing around them, through them. The guy smelled like weed and alcohol, but Ney didn’t care. He just wanted to forget the stress of the week and with the guy’s mouth grazing against the side of Neymar’s brown neck, it was easy to forget.

He became so drunk that he started losing pieces of the night. He found himself in the kitchen sucking on his burnt finger and had no idea how it happened, but everyone was cheering around him. Geri was shouting in his ear about what a legend he was.

Ney didn’t know what had happened or how he’d achieved this status, but he felt joy thrumming through his veins, an almost manic happiness that was as frightening as it was freeing.

Later, he found himself standing on the coffee table in the living room dancing. The song was _Waka Waka_ and everyone was ribbing Geri though Neymar had no clue as to why. Feeling mischievous and beautiful and unselfconscious, Neymar lifted his shirt up to his nipples and began to dance. He knew he had a good body; he worked out faithfully, regularly.

He danced slowly, writhing, his stomach rippling, his abs tightening and loosening in a seductive dance. He knew he looked good and he smiled slyly, looking around at everyone watching. Most of the guys were looking admiringly at him—at what? His confidence? He didn’t know. The girls appeared more interested in him sexually; their eyes were roving his body freely.

Neymar grinned, still holding up his shirt, grinding his hips slowly in the air as he looked from person to person. And then, suddenly, his eyes fell on Messi’s.

Messi was sitting on a couch in the corner of the room, next to Iniesta. It was Messi’s expression that arrested Neymar. He was looking at Ney as if he hadn’t seen him before, as if he’d never noticed him. His eyes were hard on Ney’s hazel ones, until slowly his gaze dropped to Ney’s belly button. And suddenly, Neymar felt naked. What dozens of other people’s stares hadn’t done, Messi’s did in a second.

Shivering, Neymar dropped his shirt. Leo looked up immediately, looking at Ney. And he felt himself harden instantly, suddenly, his cock straining in his too-tight pants. He felt like Leo knew, like he _knew_ what he was doing to Neymar because Leo slowly started to spread his legs.

Neymar, cock pulsing and leaping in his pants, turned blindly away. He jumped off the coffee table, stepping on someone’s toes. Without apologizing, he rudely began to push his way through the crowd.

He made it to the bathroom and miraculously, there was no one inside. He got in quickly and locked the door behind him, still hard, still shivering, still dizzy. His mind was buzzing with thoughts of Felipe.

Felipe had been the first—and only—guy Neymar had slept with. Their relationship had lasted only a wea few months—a few months of fucking, to put it plainly. Neymar had met Felipe at _Bells_ , the music club he and Dani frequented. And Neymar had felt such an overwhelming attraction for this _guy_ , who was dark and broody and handsome in an almost creepy way.

Felipe hadn’t been gentle or slow. He hadn’t eased Neymar in. He had looked at Ney, looked at his flushed face, looked at his bulging pants, smiled slowly and whispered, “Come home with me tonight.”

Neymar wasn’t cautious, but he wasn’t an idiot, either. But that night, looking at this stranger’s face, his throat closing up with desire, Ney had nodded. They had left immediately. Felipe drove them both home in silence. The tension in the air had been raw, gritty, and Neymar had been so achingly scared and so achingly hard.

Felipe fucked him that night, not exactly rough, but perhaps not as gentle as Neymar, a virgin at gay sex, deserved. But, fuck, Felipe had made him come. Again and again and, _goddamn it_ , again. They didn’t get out of bed that weekend, except to order food and to take separate showers. Felipe was adamant about not sharing a shower with him. Neymar subsided, not wanting to fight when he was so boneless from post-orgasmic bliss.

Felipe wasn’t a generous lover, but he didn’t need to be. Because Neymar was so physically attracted to him that he came easily, so turned on that it didn’t take much. Felipe was model-handsome, so good-looking that it was certainly a crime that he even existed.

They fucked so much, they had to change the sheets after a day-and-a-half. They fucked so much that Neymar’s ass was sore for a whole week after Felipe left. They fucked so much that, even now, when Neymar jacked off, he often thought of Felipe—and, god, it always made him come so good.

Felipe was the best sex Neymar had ever had. And because of this benchmark, Ney found it impossible to truly get turned on by any other guy. Oh, he could fuck girls easily. He had great sex with them. But he hadn’t found the kind of attraction he’d had with Felipe. That my-cock-will-explode-if-I-don’t-have-you attraction.

Until today.

It frightened Neymar. He leaned against the bathroom door and looked down at his crotch. He was still hard. Though he was drunk as a skunk, he’d managed to get hard.

From a look.

By Lionel _fucking_ Messi.

Who wasn’t even fucking good-looking!

He felt himself almost starting to panic, but he shook his head. This meant nothing. He was drunk. He was horny. He was swimming in euphoria and adrenaline. That heady cocktail had confused little Junior. It was fine. He was fine.

Junior, on the other hand, took a while to subside. When he finally retreated, angrily, back into half-mast, Neymar felt safe enough to leave the bathroom.

And walked straight into Lionel Messi, waiting patiently outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know you guys are wondering when the matchmaking is going to start. it will it will. give it time! hope you guys liked and please let me know what you think!


	3. Brunch and Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a teensy bit (okay, a lot) late on this update, but here it is! Enjoy :)

“See, I told you she didn’t like me!” Neymar hissed at Dani Alves after the waitress had walked off. She’d been giving him dark looks since he’d entered the little coffee shop. Even though Dani had waved a hand dismissively at Neymar’s wry observation, now he was doubled up in laughter after the waitress had managed to accidentally spill some of Ney’s smoothie over his lap.

She’d been appropriately regretful, offered him napkins and even a new smoothie, but he’d shaken his head, afraid of more calamities. There had just been something in her eye, a glint of malicious humour. And Dani was still laughing to Neymar’s utter disgust.

When he’d finally calmed down, Dani said, “It’s probably because of your sunglasses. What kind of douche wears them indoors?”

Neymar was outraged. “I’m hungover, you fucker! I didn’t even want to come here for fucking brunch at 11 am on a Saturday. Who the fuck even has an _appetite_ at this time? It’s practically fucking dawn.” He paused his tirade to take a huge bite of his pancakes, unaware or perhaps uncaring of the irony, then continued, “I told you, I told you I didn’t want to come—I _told_ you.”

Dani looked completely unperturbed by this outburst. With irritation, Neymar reflected that for all of Dani’s hyperactive antics, he had an incredible well of patience. Though Ney was mostly grateful for this, at this very moment, he was spoiling for a fight and it pricked him to see Dani so uninterested.

Before he could pick another fight, Geri sauntered into the door. Neymar leaned back and considered that he’d never actually _seen_ someone saunter before, but Geri was the very definition of it. He grinned at everyone in the coffee shop and everyone smiled back. Ney wondered if he actually knew all of them or if they were just mesmerized by this tall, handsome stranger.

Geri had natural charisma, the kind you couldn’t fake. He walked over, smiling at Neymar’s least favourite waitress, who beamed back, flushed. She looked vaguely dazed as if he’d whacked her over the skull with a bat.

He sat next to Dani, who punched him on the arm in welcome. By the time he’d ordered a breakfast big enough to feed all the hungry children in the world, Neymar was thoroughly irritated. Who’d invited Geri? He wasn’t in the mood for this. He was done with the jocks. The bet was over. Why was he here?

Geri grinned at Ney as if he was fully aware of all the furious thoughts in the latter’s head. “Hangover, huh?” he said too loudly, grinning wider when Ney flinched.

“Shut up,” Neymar muttered. “How are none of you hungover? Did you guys even drink? Is this a fucking conspiracy?”

Geri chuckled. “Yeah, we wanted to get you drunk. Just for our amusement. Not to take advantage of you, of course, because look at you.” He gestured towards Neymar’s body. He and Dani laughed uproariously at that for a long time.

Neymar ignored them, focusing on putting more food in his mouth to stem the nausea and the pounding in his head. He knew he had a nice body—fuck Geri. The Advil hadn’t kicked in yet so he couldn’t respond in his usual fashion.

He drifted in and out of the conversation, focusing on drinking the remains of his smoothie and stealing bacon from Geri’s plate. Geri was surprisingly amused by this and allowed it without a word. Neymar wasn’t paying any attention to them until he heard Messi’s name in the conversation.

His head jerked up as he remembered a screenshot of last night. His memories were mostly fuzzy with large gaps where he couldn’t recall a thing, but suddenly a vision of him running to the bathroom was filling his mind. He frowned. He had no idea why it had come to him and what relation Messi had to it.

He focused on the conversation and realized his sudden piqued interest had been noticed. Both Geri and Dani were smiling slyly at him. He groaned inwardly. Why, why, _why_? He tried to look nonchalant, but there was not much point in arguing with two people as obstinate as these two.

“So you want to come, huh?” Geri said, grinning.

“What?”

“To Leo’s place?”

Neymar stared. “What’re you talking about?”

Geri rolled his eyes. Impatiently, Dani interrupted, “Messi’s having his movie night tomorrow—do you want to come?”

Neymar was shaking his head before he even finished talking. “No. No. Absolutely not. No. Never. I do not want to come. No.”

Both Dani and Geri looked surprised at this. “Why?” they chorused.

Neymar was still shaking his head and realized belatedly that his headache had eased though he was still nauseous. “I just don’t want to. I don’t even know the guy—I don’t belong.” He realized his mistake as soon as he saw identical looks of pity and understanding on both their faces. “No!” he exclaimed loudly, “Not like that. I don’t like him. I just—” He sighed frustratedly. It was making no impact on these two idiots.

Dani was smiling kindly. “He doesn’t know you yet. Give it time.”

Neymar shook his head, sucking smoothie into his mouth through the straw. Maybe what he needed was more alcohol, not this. “I’m not going, Dani.” He saw looks being exchanged over his bent head and looked up. “What?” he asked warily.

Dani’s expression was sober and Geri was smiling, leaning back, arms crossed over his chest. “You owe me,” Dani said.

“What? No, I don’t.”

Dani nodded sagely. He looked very self-satisfied which irritated Neymar so much he almost punched him. “I introduced you to Messi. You. Owe. Me.”

Neymar felt something like fear lap his insides. “It was just a dumb introduction. You didn’t save me from a burning building.” He had a sinking feeling that this attitude wasn’t going to fly.

Dani raised his eyebrows, but simply kept silent. They stared at each other for a few minutes as Neymar fidgeted. “Please, Dani, don’t make me,” he burst out, all pride forgotten. He was too hungover for this. “I don’t want to go.”

“You owe me,” Dani said very quietly. “You don’t have to come. But this is what I want.”

Neymar stared at Dani. He felt guilt twist his insides. He sighed very heavily. “Fuck you,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. His headache was coming back.

This was enough for Dani who smiled. “One thing, though: I can’t take you there because I have to drop Joana home and she lives the other way.”

“It’s a 45-minute bus ride!” Neymar exclaimed, lifting his head.

Dani shrugged, looking apologetic. Neymar swore, taking a pancake directly from Dani’s plate. He deserved it.

“I’d offer you a ride,” Geri said pleasantly, “but it’s pointless since—” He waved his hand.

Neymar nodded. Geri lived with Messi; how could he ask him to pick him up? He felt frustrated and manipulated. “Okay, but this is  _it_. After this, we’re fucking even,” he said, jabbing his fork at Dani.

Dani simply nodded. “Good,” Neymar said through gritted teeth. He doused his pancake with maple syrup and didn’t say another word through brunch even though he couldn’t miss the looks of suppressed glee and excitement on both their faces.

 _This_ was going to be the last time he’d have to deal with Leo—and nothing was going to change that.

 

* * *

 

Neymar couldn’t really explain why he was so unwilling to see Leo. He was a very social person, an extrovert, someone who had always loved meeting and making new friends. But there was something rearing up inside of him—almost like fear—at the thought of seeing Messi.

Sure, he disliked Leo. Who wouldn’t? He had been completely unfriendly and rude towards Neymar. He’d ignored him fully. The only redeeming quality about him had been his behavior towards Rafaella—the one thing that confused Ney. What had that been about?

But there was something that was different this time. He had never looked _forward_ to meeting Leo, and, sure, he’d been nervous about it before because of how he might treat Rafaella, but this was different. This was legitimate fear—there was a squirmy feeling inside his stomach at the thought and it wasn’t butterflies. It was dread.

He couldn’t understand. Why? He should be completely calm about seeing him now after the end of the bet. It didn’t matter now, did it? But there was a small voice that was telling him that he needed to watch out, that Messi was trouble.

He tried to rack his brains to see if maybe something had happened last night, but there were large gaps in his memory and he couldn’t for the life of him remember most things. He didn’t even know how he’d gotten home.

He went to sleep that night with that funny heavy feeling in his stomach. He had no bad dreams, but it was cold comfort when he woke up the next morning feeling heavy and anxious.

He spent most of the day trying futilely to calm down and getting more and more anxious. It was so irritating that he got dressed two hours ahead of time and then spent the next two hours running up and down his dorm hallway. Nobody paid much attention—everyone in college was crazy anyway, right?

By the time he had to leave, he was covered in sweat and had to go back to his room and take another shower. As such, he was a little late by the time he headed to the bus stop. But it was probably a good thing because he didn’t want to arrive early and be the only one there.

He arrived about forty minutes late and when he knocked the door, he was surprised that he couldn’t hear any noise inside the apartment. Leo opened the door dressed in sweatpants, his chest bare. His hair was rumpled, but he didn’t look sleepy. Neymar briefly wondered if he’d just gotten out of bed and suddenly a flash of Leo in bed came into his mind and he flushed to the tips of his toes.

What the fuck was _that_?

Ignoring his wayward mind, he smiled brightly, noting that Leo looked completely caught off-guard for movie night and also as if he hadn’t expected Neymar to come. Fuck. Had they not told him he was coming? Fuckfuckfuck.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, still clinging to his bright fake smile. “I’m here!”

Leo looked more confused at this. “Uh,” he said, looking him up and down. “Hey. Are you here to meet Geri?”

That was confusing. Well. “Both of you!” Neymar frowned then. “Isn’t Geri here?”

Leo shook his head. “He went out, but he’ll probably be home at some point.” They stood there awkwardly for a second then Leo reluctantly stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”

Ney almost turned away and walked off. He felt insulted and indignant. Leo was acting like he had invited Voldemort across his threshold and Geri wasn’t even here! He was going to strangle him. He gritted his teeth, thinking of Dani and took a deep breath. “Yes, thanks!”

They shuffled awkwardly into the living room. Neymar stood there, staring. Leo was a seriously underprepared host. The couch was piled high with blankets and pillows. There was a ton of snacks, though, as he eyed the coffee table piled high with goodies.

And there wasn’t a single other soul there.

“Er,” Neymar said. “Where is everyone?” He looked around as if expecting someone to burst out from behind the curtain yelling “Surprise!”

He turned to Leo and saw that the latter was looking wary and still confused. “I told you, Geri’s not here,” Leo said slowly, as if Neymar was a toddler who couldn’t understand that the toy he wanted was no longer being manufactured.

Neymar wanted to throttle him, but forced a laugh. “Guess everyone’s running a bit late! Thought I was late too, but it seems like I’m the earliest.” He kept chuckling as if it was very funny.

Leo was staring at him as if he was talking a foreign language. “Are other people coming?” he asked politely.

Neymar forced another laugh. God, Leo’s sense of humour was dry, wasn’t it? “So what movie are we watching?”

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoroughly discomfited. “Well, I just started watching this documentary on dolphins.”

Neymar was appalled. Movie night was about documentaries? He had been invited to watch… a _documentary_?

He swallowed hard. “Okay. Is that common?”

Leo’s eyes were puzzled. “Dolphins? I’m not sure about their population—”

“No, I mean, do you guys watch a lot of documentaries?”

Leo shrugged. “Geri doesn’t like them, but I find it interesting.”

Neymar nodded, steeling himself for what was sure to be one of the most boring nights of his young life. He was going to _kill_ Dani. Where was that asshole, anyway?

“So he doesn’t mind watching it, then? Or do you take turns picking a movie?”

Leo looked confused, but he seemed resigned almost. As if Neymar’s propensity to ask weird questions was a given by now. “He doesn’t watch it if he doesn’t like it. We choose what we want to watch. Sometimes we argue about who gets the TV, but mostly it’s fine.”

Neymar nodded. There was a beat of silence until Leo gestured towards the couch. “Want to sit?”

Ney nodded again. They perched awkwardly on opposite ends of the couch. Ney was reminded again of the fact that Leo was still shirtless—for some reason, it was making him seriously uncomfortable.

In fact, he was almost getting kind of—

No.

No.

 _No_.

He ignored his suddenly too-tight pants (he’d gained some weight recently, no big deal, didn’t mean a damn thing, it was fine, everything was fine) and tried to concentrate on the documentary. Leo shifted a little next to him and Neymar had to concentrate very hard on the screen and not the movement of pale skin next to him.

(Why was he so damn pale, anyway? Unattractive!)

Unbidden, images of Leo’s shirtless body came to his mind. When he’d answered the door, he’d ran a hand casually down his chest. At the time, Neymar hadn’t paid attention, but it seemed his subconscious mind had because it was now replaying the moment over and over again.

What was going on? He wasn’t attracted to Messi. He didn’t think Leo was good-looking. He was arresting, sure. Nice abs, yes.

Neymar swallowed, sternly getting his mind back on track. Dolphins. Yes, that was what he was here for. Glistening dolphins. Leo’s chest had glistened too. There had been a drop of sweat right on his collar bone.

When had his brain even noticed all of this?!

Infuriated with himself and his increasingly tightening pants (he needed to lose some damn weight, that was for sure) he grabbed a blanket and placed it strategically over himself. To hide his… er, fat. That was it. Yes, fat.

It was puzzling. He clearly needed to get laid. Something was wrong with him. First he’d been filled with dread at seeing Leo. Now he was sitting next to him and feeling too… _fat_. It was ridiculous. He wondered if he was losing his mind.

These jocks were bad news. This was the last time he was hanging out with them, that was for sure.

It reminded him of why he’d met them in the first place. Rafaella.

Sighing a little, Neymar turned to Leo. “Um,” he said. Leo turned to him, pausing the documentary, eyebrows raised a little. “Thanks for… um, talking to my sister.”

Leo smiled, his face softening. “No problem. I have a sister a little older than yours.”

Aaaaaaaah. That made sense. No _wonder_ he’d been so nice! Neymar laughed out loud in relief at solving the mystery. Leo looked slightly taken aback at that so Ney controlled himself. “Just—little sisters, am I right?” he said jokingly, trying to defuse the situation.

Leo gave him a strange look and unpaused the documentary. Neymar shook his head inwardly. He was looking all kinds of crazy here. There was no coming back from this hellhole of a night. If there had ever been any hope of being friends with Messi, it had all disappeared tonight.

He felt some of the dread in his stomach loosening. It made no sense. It was almost as if he was _afraid_ of becoming friends with Leo. But why would his mind be afraid of something that wasn’t going to happen?

Shrugging inwardly, he helped himself to chips. Aloud, he wondered, “Do they always come late?”

“The dolphins?”

God, Leo was stupid. Either that, or his sense of humour was repetitive and annoying. “No, your other guests,” Ney explained patiently.

“What other guests?” Leo said, pausing the documentary again. “What’re you talking about?”

“For movie night. The other peop—” And, suddenly, Neymar stopped, horrified. His mouth hung ajar. Oh no. Oh nononono. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. No one else is coming, are they?”

Leo was looking a bit wary at this. “No.”

Neymar pulled the blanket over his head, moaning in horror. “Oh _God_. Do you even have movie night?” he asked, his voice muffled.

“What movie night?”

Unable to bear the embarrassment of this, Neymar buried himself further into the blankets, shaking his head and moaning an endless series of _no_ s.

Now everything made sense! Why Geri was out, why Dani couldn’t give him a ride, why Leo had looked so utterly confused at Neymar’s entrance. Oh _God_ , he probably thought Neymar was some crazy person who just dropped in for no reason into people’s houses and asked to watch movies with them.

He curled up into the fetal position, blanket still firmly over his face, moaning and rocking back and forth. He was never coming out. He would just die here. Yes. That was the best plan. Just to die on Leo’s couch under a blanket when he’d already acted like a loon.

Leo shook him impatiently. “Neymar, get out of there. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m not coming out.”

“For God’s sake, don’t make me fight you.”

Normally, Ney would have scoffed at this. Leo was maybe a little heavier than him, but he was shorter than Ney. Who did he think he was? But it was time to end the crazy. He was going to come out, explain he’d been pranked and go home to die in shame.

He emerged slowly, not meeting Leo’s eyes. “I was told that you were hosting movie night and you wanted me to come.”

There was utter silence for a minute. Then Leo asked, his voice suspiciously polite, “Who told you this?”

Neymar peeked at him. Leo’s face was blank, completely blank. For a second, he wondered if Leo was mad. “Dani. And Geri. They told me to come!” he rushed to say, afraid of getting in trouble.

And then Leo started to laugh. It seemed to come out of his shoulders first, which started to shake. Then he fell back into the couches, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out of him. Neymar looked at him, humiliated, offended, and completely disgusted with his weekend thus far. He allowed Leo to laugh for about 30 seconds but then decided that it was going on far too long.

“You know what?” he said, completely incensed. Everyone had made an utter fool of him and he was over it. “I’m going home. Fuck you all.”

But Leo moved so quickly that before Ney could throw off the blanket and march out, Leo had caught his elbow. He was still breathless from laughter, but he was a little more in control. “No, wait,” he began, before bursting into laughter.

Irritated, Ney tried to shrug off Leo’s hand, but his grip was surprisingly strong. He held Neymar easily, readily. It occurred to Ney that maybe he _wouldn’t_ win a fight with Leo.

Appalled with the whole situation, Neymar crossed his arms and sat back, waiting for Leo to be done. When he finally subsided, Ney looked at him, raising him eyebrows and for some reason this set Leo off again.

If this had been anyone else, Neymar would have surely punched him, but he didn’t know Leo very well. Also, he could only imagine how amusing the whole situation must be for Leo—he’d probably laugh too if it wasn’t his problem.

When Leo was finally, completely done, wiping his eyes, red from laughter, his eyes still brimming with amusement, he stared at Neymar in quiet amusement, until, sobering, he asked quietly, “So. I’m going to ask you straight up.”

“What?”

“Are Dani and Geri trying to set us up because you…?” Leo trailed off awkwardly, gesturing between them.

Neymar frowned. “Because I…?”

Leo sighed, exasperated. “Because you have feelings…”

“NO!” Neymar shouted, scaring them both. Leo reared back a little, but then grinned. Neymar cleared his throat and said in a softer voice, “No. They think that I have feelings for you so they’re trying to get us together.”

Leo’s cheeks had reddened and Ney wondered if it was embarrassment. “They’re crazy, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just annoying. I never thought they’d go this far.”

Leo laughed. “You have to admit it’s pretty funny.”

“It’s horrendous,” Neymar said flatly. “Wait until they mess with you.”

Leo grinned. “They won’t mess with me. Nobody messes with me.” There was something about the way he said it. It was a cocky statement and, in the wrong context, insufferable. But Leo said it matter-of-factly. And Neymar recognized it as truth.

You just didn’t mess with Leo. He wasn’t that type. Even now, sitting on the couch, leaning back against the pillows, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips (Neymar was not looking at his hipbones, he was _not_ ), his hair flopping onto his forehead, his ridiculous dimples and that disgusting buttchin for all to see, there was something about him. Some quiet confidence, some kind of power.

Neymar felt his stomach swooping and his pants tightening (he was starting the diet _tomorrow_ ) and looked away quickly. There was that feeling of dread again and now another memory of the party surfaced. He had previously remembered running _to_ the bathroom, but now he remembered running _away_ from the bathroom. From Lionel Messi.

Where he’d been standing outside the bathroom.

But Neymar couldn’t remember why he was running. Had something happened? He glanced at Leo and said casually, “Hey, you remember the party?”

Leo nodded, his face flattening just a little. “It happened here,” he said, quirking his lips a little.

“I’m kind of missing chunks from my memory.”

“You were pretty wasted that night,” Leo laughed.

“Yeah,” Neymar said, feeling slightly nervous, though he wasn’t sure why. “So… did I do anything stupid?”

“More than the usual drunk person, you mean?”

Neymar smiled. “Yep.”

Leo shrugged. “Not really.”

Neymar stared at Leo’s inscrutable face and he felt something inside him stir, some recognition that maybe Messi was lying. Leo met his gaze calmly, but Ney felt unconvinced. But if Messi wasn’t willing to tell him, Neymar could hardly force him, could he?

Neymar hesitated, almost about to offer an apology for anything he might have done. But he bit his tongue and shook his head. “Well,” he said, “let’s watch this damn documentary. Movie night’s been a dud so far.”

Leo laughed and, after a beat or two, Neymar joined him and they laughed so hard that they were clutching their stomachs, leaning on opposite ends of the couch.

Ney looked over, wiping his eyes. “We gotta get those fuckers back.”

Leo grinned. “What’re you going to do?”

Neymar sat up straight, turning to face Messi. “Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his finger at Leo. “We’re in this together. Don’t even try and get out of it. You could be next!”

Leo shrugged. “They won’t mess with me.”

Neymar deflated abruptly. “Oh, right. But you gotta help me!”

Leo looked at him, smiling. “Just tell them you don’t like me. Why would they even assume you do in the first place?”

Neymar hesitated. He knew Leo knew that Rafaella had a crush on him, but it felt wrong to say it anyway. He couldn’t do that to his sister. “I asked for an introduction,” Ney said quietly.

“Why?”

Ney couldn’t meet Leo’s eyes. God, that sounded like he was a lovesick fan. What could he possibly say? “I… I admire your football.”

“Fuck off. You didn’t even know what a hattrick ball was.”

Neymar felt beads of sweat forming under his armpits. Maybe he could pretend to have a crush on Leo? He shook his head inwardly. That would be much more awkward. “I was curious.”

There was a small silence and Ney looked up. Somehow Leo’s face had closed up a little and Neymar couldn’t understand it. He didn’t look upset, but he looked… _guarded_ almost.

The atmosphere had gotten tense and Ney didn’t know why. He thought frantically over what he’d said. Had it been offensive? Was being curious rude?

He glanced at Leo, who forced a laugh. “Shall we…?” And, without a word, he unpaused the documentary and they watched the rest of the documentary in stilted silence.

And Neymar was suddenly aware that he’d ruined the beginnings of a friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah. It's a tiny bit shorter than planned, but oh well. Let me know what you think! :)


	4. Curves and Texts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!

Neymar spent the next few weeks in a feverish rush to study. He had midterms in three weeks and he had to do well. He’d been accepted on a scholarship and the stipulations included a minimum GPA of 3.5. Luckily, he’d always been a good student, blessed with the happy talent of having to study very little while still acing all his exams.

As such, he spent most of his time in the library, coming back to his dorm room only around midnight, exhausted and often falling into bed fully clothed. He didn’t go out and didn’t talk to anyone except his roommate and his sister. He tried to avoid speaking to the latter simply because it reminded him of Leo and, for some reason, whenever he thought of Leo, he felt his stomach clench.

Rafaella seemed to attribute it to exam nerves and so didn’t take offense. Neymar knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, but he guiltily took full advantage, relieved to be alone. The truth was, he wasn’t actively thinking of Leo or his friends, but he found little things reminded him of them—of Leo, in particular.

It didn’t worry him, but it was surprising, nonetheless. Sometimes, it didn’t even make sense. He could be eating chips and, suddenly, inexplicably, he would think of Leo. It wasn’t sexual thoughts—well, except that one time, but that was a one-off (he _hadn’t_ jacked off to it, no he hadn’t, no sir)—it was more wondering how Leo was, what he was doing, where he was right then.

All in all, it was strange. (But nothing to be concerned about, no one was concerned, would everyone just _calm down_.) That said, Neymar was actually seriously worried about his exams and he found himself thinking of Leo less and less as the days passed by.

Dani had messaged him the day after the “movie night”. Neymar had been too angry to respond. Dani hadn’t given up; he’d kept calling and calling, sending multiple texts, but Neymar didn’t reply, initially because of fury, but later because his phone’s ringer was always turned off while he was in the library so he inevitably only saw the texts/calls late at night when he was too tired to respond.

Neymar wasn’t particularly concerned about it—their friendship was strong enough to get over this particular hurdle. Once Dani allowed Ney to kick his ass, they’d be back to their old selves. But for now, Neymar didn’t have time. Plus, Dani had little to no motivation to study and this attitude meant that he would try dragging Neymar out to party—decidedly unwelcome at the moment.

So he immersed himself in studies and lost a few pounds and shed a few tears in the shower on particularly stressful nights. He resolved to call Dani the second his last exam was over and he did so while still making his way out of the classroom where he’d written his final midterm. He so rarely called anyone—especially Dani—that the latter immediately picked up, wary and concerned.

“Ney? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Dude, I just finished my midterms. You need to take me out.”

Dani laughed softly. “I have an evening exam, but after that, I’ll text you. Be ready. Don’t sleep on me.”

Neymar agreed and hung up without another word. They hadn’t even discussed the incident—they would, of course—but it was unnecessary at the moment. He trudged to the bus stop, bone-weary and his mind so tired that he wasn’t even thinking; he was just longing to get home, eat a sandwich, have a long, hot shower and a glorious nap.

Leaning against a tree, his mind wandered to his exam and he wondered if he’d screwed up the last question. He’d never been great at Calculus and three-dimensional integration made him feel vaguely like he’d been dropped in China and expected to write a full Shakespearean-level essay in Chinese.

Dropping his head back with a dull _thunk_ against the wood, he closed his eyes briefly. When he heard a horn, he straightened, expecting to see the bus. It turned out to be two cars that had almost collided at the intersection. Sighing, he leaned back again, yawning and turning his neck from side to side, feeling his muscles ache. Rubbing a hand ruefully over his sore shoulder, he aimlessly looked around.

When his eyes met Leo’s, his tired brain actually didn’t recognize him for a few seconds. Leo was standing at the end of the sidewalk, quite a distance from Neymar. He was wearing a long-sleeved black sweater and stone-washed jeans with jagged rips at the knees. The jeans were tight over his hips, but loose everywhere else.

He was alone and waiting at the intersection for the green light to cross the street. He had plainly recognized Neymar because his expression was frozen and blank. There was a fraught second in which Neymar’s sluggish wits struggled to catch up with the situation at hand. He was fully aware that his body had reacted before his mind had because his heart was hammering in his chest, his palms were dripping sweat, and there was a weird squirmy sensation in his stomach. (Not butterflies, he didn’t have _those_ kinds of feelings goddammit.)

All of this happened in a second, but by the time Neymar had finally straightened in greeting, his mouth starting to stretch into a smile, Leo turned sharply away, jamming his fingers into his pockets.

There was a long moment in which the light stayed stubbornly red, Neymar staring blankly at Leo’s averted gaze, his tense figure, Neymar’s lips frozen in a half-smile. It felt like an eternity—a foreverness of Leo refusing to acknowledge Neymar’s existence, refusing to greet the person who’d sat through what was certainly the most boring documentary on dolphins ever made just a few weeks back. In Leo’s own home, on his couch, sitting right next to him.

And then finally, mercifully, the light turned green and Leo walked, his shoulders hunched. He didn’t look back, his gaze facing firmly forward. And Neymar stared after him, his heart pounding so fast that he wondered if he’d faint.

Maybe, Neymar thought hopefully for one mad second, it hadn’t been Leo. Maybe Neymar had been confused, maybe he’d mistaken it for someone else. He was extremely tired and he’d slept very little the night before.

But his brain—though exhausted—flatly refused to buy this lie. The truth was simple, but unpalatable. Cruel, even.

Leo had outright ignored Neymar.

 

* * *

 

Neymar spent the whole bus ride home getting more and more hurt. It was infuriating, but the further away his bus drove, the angrier and more upset he got. So Messi had ignored him, so what? Hadn’t Neymar planned to never speak to him or his friends again? Hadn’t Neymar’s plan been to never see them again? Why was he feeling so bad then?

But Ney would never have done something so blatant, so rude—so _goddamn_ rude. He would _never_ have been that much of an asshole. That hadn’t been the plan. Not hanging out with someone was _not_ the same as not even having the courtesy to say hello.

This was… this was—Leo had crossed the fucking line.

That _asshole_. Who did he think he _was_? How _dare_ he? What had Neymar even _done_? Come to his house for a _party_?

Okay, so he’d gotten a little wasted at said party, but he hadn’t _done_ anything bad, had he?

But he wasn’t so sure about that. He just wasn’t 100% certain Leo had told him the truth that night. He didn’t even know why he felt it was a lie; it was just something about Leo’s carefully blank face. It hadn’t felt authentic.

But that still didn’t mean he could _ignore_ Ney, right?

And, okay, Neymar had also invited himself over for a movie night—scratch that, _documentary_ night—but it had been harmless. And they’d had fun, right? Leo had laughed a lot, hadn’t he?

Before, of course, Ney had made that offhand remark about being curious about Leo. Leo hadn’t liked that. Furrowing his brow, Neymar sighed. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong. What was wrong with curiosity, for God’s sake?

Squirming in his seat, feeling equal parts guilty and angry, although he wasn’t sure exactly _why_ he felt guilty, Neymar opened his phone and searched through his contacts. He found _Leo Messi_ and deleted it with satisfaction. It was petty revenge, but it felt so good. He leaned back, some of the anger disappearing.

He was too tired and hungry for this. Fuck Messi. Fuck his group of friends. Fuck jocks. What was so great about kicking a ball around anyway? Who cared if you had coordination and the ability to score a goal?

Nobody, that’s who. Neymar didn’t give a fuck about Lionel Messi.

Fuck him.

 

* * *

 

By the time Dani came to pick him up, Neymar had worked himself up to a boiling point of self-righteous indignation. He couldn’t, of course, tell Dani about it because they were friends, but it didn’t matter. Dani simply took Neymar’s grouchiness as punishment for the movie night prank and accepted it calmly, even if his mouth twitched suspiciously from time to time.

They went straight to Dani’s apartment which was filled with at least half a dozen guys, some of whom Neymar already knew. Ney went around, hugging and greeting them and meeting the new guys, marveling inside at Dani’s ability to make friends.

Most of the guys were party animals and Ney relaxed, knowing their night was going to be a hit. He stretched, taking shots with Marcelo and dancing. He loved Marcelo; he was always up for everything, just like Dani.

They left after about an hour, pleasantly buzzed or, in Neymar’s case, lightly drunk. He’d drunk more than everyone else and ate much less—hoping to get drunk faster and, combined with his exhaustion, it was working.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of shots and girls. They bar-hopped, their raucous party somehow picking up stray people from clubs so that, by the time they had headed to their last venue, the group was double its original size.

To Neymar’s surprise, Geri showed up halfway through the night. Ney hugged him, but he felt a cold feeling in his chest, suddenly reminded of Leo. Remembering the way Leo had ignored him, Ney grimly tossed his glass back, feeling the burn of liquor in his throat and chest. It warmed him a little and he looked around, his mind determined.

He made his way over to a pretty, slightly chubby girl sitting with her friends in the corner of the bar. She looked amazed when Ney asked her to dance—but he’d been watching her for a while and he’d seen her moves already. She was incredible when she danced, her hips undulating sexily, her hair tossing back, throat arched in pleasure of the music. It was like she was a whole different person—confident and unselfconscious and sexy.

Neymar wanted her suddenly. (It had nothing to do with Leo, who was Leo, anyway?) She agreed, blushing a little, placing her fingers in his. He felt the spark of connection and grinned, feeling his head rush, images of Leo pushed away by this flesh-and-blood girl standing in front of him.

They danced for a long time—if you could call it dancing. It was almost like sex—her body pressed against his, her cheeks flushed, his fingers in her hair, the smell of sweat and something else in the air. Ney could feel her breath in his ear when he urged her even closer and knew from the way she panted that she was as turned on as he was.

She came back to Dani’s place with him and they went immediately to the guest bedroom, ignoring Dani’s hoots. Neymar locked the door and stood at the threshold, watching her, the quiet of the bedroom sobering him up.

His sudden stillness filled her eyes with fear and slight hesitation. But Neymar didn’t notice—because his mind was suddenly filled with Leo, of a shirtless Messi leaning back on his couch, confident, eyes dark.

Abruptly furious, Ney focused in on the girl in front of him. She was pretty, but suddenly he wished he hadn’t brought her back to Dani’s place. He didn’t even know her name. Guilt and anger were warring inside him and, in the end, anger won. He moved forward, taking a dep breath and smiling; she immediately relaxed as he took her in his arms and kissed her.

The sex was good and they fucked a couple of times because Neymar was hard even after coming twice. The third time he came (and there were definitely no images of Messi in his head, no sir, no images), he rolled off her, exhausted and fell asleep almost suddenly.

 

* * *

 

When Neymar woke up, it was to an empty bed and a note under his phone on the bedside table. The note was simple: a number and her name— _Amy_.

Neymar smiled, feeling a gush of relief inside followed closely by guilt. He shrugged and pulled his phone up, looking through his notifications. When he saw the messages, he sat up horrified. There were four texts from a _Leo Messi_ :

_Yeah no worries_

_But I have to be back for practice around 11_

_So how about 10?_

_Let me know_

His heart thundering, he opened his messages right away. He read the whole conversation, his eyes getting wider and wider. He clapped a hand over his mouth, moaning, “Nononono.” When had he sent all these texts? When had he—

He stopped, his eyes narrowed. This wasn’t right. He had deleted Leo’s number yesterday, hadn’t he? And he certainly didn’t remember it sober, so how could he have had added it back from memory while he was drunk? This was—there was something fishy here.

Growling, he got out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth angrily, furiously, rushing through it. When his breath didn’t smell like donkey shit, he ripped open the door of the guest bedroom, shouting Dani’s name.

“I’m in here,” a faint voice came from the living room.

Neymar changed direction, feeling the blood pound through his veins. Dani had done a lot of stupid shit before, but this was over the line—this was _too_ far. He stopped short at the threshold. Geri was lounging on one end of the couch, Dani on the other. They had plainly been talking and both were looking at Neymar with casual, innocent expressions.

 _Too_ innocent.

Neymar made his way, teeth gritted so hard that he briefly considered that he might crack a molar. “What the _fuck_ is this?” he said through clenched teeth, jabbing the phone screen towards them both.

Tellingly, they both glanced quickly at each other before looking at the screen. That was all Neymar needed. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with both of you?” he said, his voice rising in volume until he ended it on a shout. “THIS IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY!”

To Dani and Geri’s credit, they didn’t laugh, although they were both smirking. “Who said we did it?” Dani said, raising an eyebrow, grinning. “Maybe you did it. You were pretty drunk yesterday night.”

“Yeah, well, you guys fucked up, you know why?” Neymar said, even more infuriated by the lie. “Because yesterday I deleted his number from my phone.”

Both of them looked taken aback and then their grins were back, wider than before. “Why?” Geri said curiously, thoroughly unashamed.

Completely incensed by now, Neymar shouted, “BECAUSE YOUR FUCKING MESSI IGNORED ME YESTERDAY!”

The reaction was instant. Dani sat up straight, his face incredulous, while Geri yelped “What?”

Gratified by this, Neymar continued, his anger abating a little, “That’s right! While you guys were busy trying to get us to fuck, _your_ Messi hates me enough to ignore me.”

Geri and Dani exchanged long disbelieving, almost wondering looks and then turned back to Neymar. “Wait, hold up. What do you mean he _ignored_ you?” Geri asked.

“He saw me on the street yesterday. You know, near the bus stop? And he just turned away,” Neymar said with relish, enjoying this, thinking that he would _finally_ win, determined to make them feel as bad as possible.

“Are you sure he saw you?” Dani asked very seriously.

“Of course! He looked right at me for like five seconds and then just turned away.”

Dani and Geri looked at each other, still with that incredulous expression and then simultaneously burst into laughter.

Angry again, Neymar shouted, “What’s so fucking funny?”

Geri grinned at Ney. “What did you do?”

Neymar was taken aback. “I didn’t do _anything_! I was too fucking far to say anything,” he said bitterly.

Dani waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, not yesterday. When you went to his house. What’d you do?”

“What do you _mean_?” Neymar cried, his voice so high-pitched that even he winced. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I didn’t do _any_ thing.”

Geri was leaning back, his hands behind his head, grinning widely. “You definitely did something. Come on, Ney.”

Guilt bubbled inside Neymar. But—could it really be the reason? “I didn’t do anything but—” Neymar started defensively, “—there was this one moment…”

“Uh-huh,” Dani said, laughing. “Go on.”

“Nothing, okay? He asked me if I liked him—”

“WHAT?” Geri spluttered, straightening again. He looked at Dani, who was rolling at the hilarity of it all, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “He asked you _what_?”

“It’s not like that!” Neymar cried. “He just wanted to know why you guys pranked me. So I said you thought I liked him but that I didn’t but that you thought I did because I asked for an introduction with him and that made you think I like him but I didn’t and then he asked me why I wanted an introduction—” And, breathless, Neymar stopped, confused and feeling guilty again.

“Ah,” Dani said briskly, “Now we’re getting to it. What did you say?”

“I—I said that I was curious,” Neymar faltered. When both Geri and Dani visibly winced, the former shaking his head and the latter chuckling, Neymar snapped, “What? There’s nothing wrong with what I said!”

But both Dani and Geri were ignoring him. They were looking at each other.

“What do you think?” Geri said, his eyebrows raised.

“Sounds promising,” Dani said, blowing out a breath, head cocked to the side as he considered.

“ _What_ sounds promising?” Neymar said loudly, thoroughly fed up.

“Why do you think it was?” Dani continued curiously, as if Neymar didn’t exist.

“Felipe, probably,” Geri said thoughtfully, sizing Neymar up.

At the name, Ney choked. “How do _you_ know about—how,” he spluttered, thoroughly shocked. He turned to Dani, furious. “You!” he said through gritted teeth, jabbing a finger at him.

“ _I_ didn’t tell him,” Dani said calmly.

“You’re the only one who knew! What do you mean _you_ didn’t tell him?” Neymar said wildly, realizing the implication of that stressed syllable. “Then who did?”

Geri and Dani looked at him steadily. But Neymar was utterly bewildered. “Who? I didn’t tell anyone else! Did—did Felipe tell you?”

Geri rolled his eyes. “No, of course not. You really don’t remember what happened that night at the party, huh?”

The blood draining from Neymar’s face, he collapsed into a sofa. “What happened?”

But he already knew. Of _course_ he knew.

Messi.

Lionel _fucking_ Messi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a bit shorter than planned, but i hope you enjoyed nevertheless! please let me know what you think :)


	5. Bad News and Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three months. i totally suck. i hope you guys haven't given up on me! i tried to make this chapter extra long to compensate and i hope you enjoy! :)

Neymar paced, his hands curling into fists at his side. He felt like pulling his hair out. Not that he would, of course, because _nobody_ touched Neymar’s hair, not even Neymar. Well, except for his barber. But otherwise, nobody. Felipe had tried, but Ney had yelped and frozen, the only protest he’d uttered that weekend.

His body flushed deeper than it already was now as memories flitted through his mind—R-rated, delicious, salacious memories.

He swallowed a little, focusing on the matter at hand. He was aware that both Geri and Dani were watching him, one curious, the other lazily amused. His heart was pounding and he could feel the dampness under his armpits. He had already been nauseous due to the hangover, but now he felt like he might vomit.

“Just tell me,” he gritted out, unable to take the silence.

“Will you sit down?” Dani wasn’t really asking a question; in fact, his voice was slightly sharp now. Surprised, Neymar turned to him. Why was _he_ angry?

He met Dani’s gaze indignantly, ready to argue, but suddenly the fight left him. He was exhausted, hungover, hungry, anxious and nauseated. How was a human supposed to feel all these things all at once and cope?

He sank down onto the seat he’d leapt out of a few minutes ago. “Tell me, Dani,” he repeated, his voice, but pleading.

“I already told you I can’t.”

Geri was being surprisingly quiet and he didn’t chime in, even when Ney turned towards him imploringly. “It’s about me! What’s the big deal? I already know what happened between me and Felipe, so it’s no secret, is it? I just want to know how much I told him! Why is that so hard to understand?”

“I know,” Dani said calmly, lightly tossing his phone in his hand. “But I won’t betray Leo’s trust.”

Ney swallowed a little. He felt suddenly like he was going to cry and he couldn’t really understand why. Maybe it was all the roiling sensations going through his body, but the fact that Dani would protect Leo and not _him_ —it made Ney feel like crying.

He’d always thought of Dani as one of his closest friends, if not _the_ closest friend. Whenever anything bad or good had happened to him, it had always been Dani he’d turned to, always Dani he wanted to call up first and tell. He’d always thought the feeling was mutual, but it was as if he’d never even known Dani, never really known who his true friends were.

Neymar’s eyes dropped to his own lap. He felt tired and sad and stupid. What a fool he was, thinking he was as special to Dani as Dani was to him, but Dani had never even spoken to Neymar about Leo and yet—and _yet_ , he loved Leo. How little must Ney mean to him then.

Half-aware that he was overreacting in this situation, Ney still couldn’t quite settle his emotions and he took a second to take a deep breath, head still bowed.

“Neymar,” Dani said gently. Ney looked up, fighting for calm. God, what was wrong with him? He pasted on a placid expression, but there was no fooling Dani. “Ney. There’s something you have to know about Leo.”

Dani stopped, turning to look at Geri. Geri inclined his head, but said nothing otherwise. Dani continued, “Leo is not—he doesn’t trust people easily. It takes him years. He doesn’t forgive breaches of confidence. He doesn’t forgive lies. If you betray him once, that’s it. He will never take you back.”

Ney exploded a little. “Since when have you been such a secret-keeper? You’ve been fucking around on my phone, sending texts to him. You’ve told my secrets to plenty of people!”

Dani grinned. “Ney, you tell everyone everything the second you meet them.”

“That’s not true!” Ney squeaked. He wanted to be mysterious like Messi too. He _was_ that mysterious, dammit. “I don’t tell people about Felipe!”

Dani’s eyes were twinkling—he was back to his usual, swagtastic self. “No, you don’t,” he drawled, speaking slowly but with meaning, “But you told Leo.”

Neymar’s lips parted, but he had nothing to say. _Later_ , he vowed to himself. There was no time to examine the possible reasons for _that_ —as shocking as it was, as out-of-character, as stunning.

Just as he was about to retort, his phone rang. Surprised, Neymar jumped, his nerves jangling immediately. His first thought was _Messi_. It made no sense, of course, but he was so sure that it was him that it took a second for him to register that his mother was calling.

Staring stupidly at the screen, he muted the call, slightly guilty. He’d talk to her later; he just needed to gather himself right now. He turned back to Dani, feeling a bit calmer, but the phone rang again. It was his mother for the second time. She never double-called.

Frowning, anxiety filling him again, he swiped his thumb to the right and pressed the phone to his ear. “Mom?”

“Ney, Ney,” his mother sobbed on the other side.

Neymar stood up immediately, his heart pounding, gripping his phone with two hands. Dani and Geri stood too, the horror on Neymar’s face mirrored in their widened eyes, their suddenly tense stances. “Mama, what’s wrong? Mama?”

And through her sobs, she finally choked out, “Rafaella.”

 

* * *

 

Dani drove Neymar back immediately to his place. Both Dani and Geri offered to drive him home, but he firmly refused. Dani insisted a little longer, but Neymar simply shook his head. It might take him an hour or two longer to get home, but he suddenly couldn’t bear Dani’s company.

Finally, Dani gave up and hugged him tightly. “If you need anything, you call me, okay?” he murmured into Ney’s ear, calling him _brother_ in Brazil. For a second, the endearment made Neymar’s throat tighten, but he nodded and thanked him quietly.

As soon as Dani left, Neymar started throwing things into his backpack. He hesitated, stepped back, then unpacked his backpack and dumped things into a suitcase he pulled out from his closet. He didn’t know how long he’d have to stay and it’d be better to prepare.

At the thought, a shudder of horror rippled through Neymar. Rafaella had gotten into a car accident and been taken to the hospital. She was still undergoing tests, but Neymar’s mother was panicked. Ney knew why. She’d lost her dear friend to a car accident when she was a teenager herself and she was still afraid of driving or cars.

He was religious and he dropped to his knees, pressing his face into the bedspread. _Please, God, please let her be okay, please, God._ He couldn’t think of anything else to pray, simply said those words over and over in his mind, tears coursing down his face.

The doorbell rang just as he started to sob and, even though it was impossible, Neymar leapt up in horror, thinking for a second that it was more bad news about Rafaella.

He wiped his face hastily, cursing whoever it was. He hurried to the door, fully intending to toss whoever it was out on their ear. His roommate had gone back home for the weekend so it couldn’t be anyone important.

He thought he’d had his fill of surprises for the day, but when he opened the door, it was none other than Leo.

Messi was dressed in a cream-coloured long sleeved turtleneck sweater and black pants. He looked cool and comfortable and his hair was damp. When he saw Neymar’s tear-streaked face, his red eyes, Leo immediately froze. A fleeting emotion rippled across his face, but Ney was too distracted to fully take it in.

“Leo?” he sputtered, wholly taken aback.

“Hey,” Messi said softly. “I heard about—I heard. Are you going home?”

Neymar nodded. Suddenly, he clapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh my god, I was supposed to come meet you! I’m so sorry, I just—”

Leo interrupted firmly, “Shut up. It’s fine. How are you getting home? You have a car?”

Neymar shook his head. He couldn’t quite articulate his thoughts. He was feeling weepy and exhausted again. “I’m taking the bus.”

Leo shook his head. “No, I’ll drive you.”

Neymar shook his head, even though he was already feeling overwhelmed. “No! No, I’ll get myself home—I can manage.”

But Messi’s expression made Neymar’s jaw click shut. He didn’t know what it was about Leo, but Ney could feel the force of Leo’s will weakening Neymar’s spine, wearing his protests down even without words.

Something about Leo—something about him screamed authority and Ney thought wonderingly that it must be his self-assurance. Even now, even while Ney was overwhelmed and distraught, Leo’s stance exuded confidence. The hands jammed into his pockets, the slightly rounded shoulders, his chin jutting up, his eyes soft and dark. Neymar had never thought that eyes could be so powerful even when they were so blurry, but Leo’s was.

Neymar briefly wondered if he was losing his mind. His sister was in a hospital and he was thinking about Leo’s dark eyes. He felt hysterical laughter bubbling out of his mouth; what was wrong with him? But he couldn’t stop. He leaned against the wall, gasping with amusement, even as he started sobbing.

Messi was next to him without a word, his hand slipping up Neymar’s shoulder, cupping the back of his neck and squeezing lightly. The touch anchored Ney, settling him in a way he couldn’t understand. Leo’s skin was comfortingly warm against Neymar’s and he let Ney sob for a second more before murmuring, “Hey, hey.”

Ney turned blindly, looking for Leo’s face. Leo was very close and Neymar could see the lines fanning out from his eyes. He could smell Messi’s cologne now and suddenly, as the scent permeated his consciousness, a memory surfaced: of Neymar and Leo standing like this, in Leo’s bathroom, that night at the party, while Messi’s hand pressed against his shirt, against his heartbeat, almost as if he was holding Neymar together.

The memory sobered him in a way nothing else could. He stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut, simultaneously thoroughly embarrassed at the fact that he’d cried in front of Messi and horrified by his memory. What had happened that night at the party?

But this wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

He stepped back, away from Leo’s hand, straightening, feeling more in control. “Sorry,” he said, still shaky, voice slightly hoarse. “I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been—you know.”

“Go pack,” Leo said very quietly. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re done.”

 

* * *

 

The awkwardness was back in full force by the time Leo keyed in his address on his car’s GPS—his _very_ expensive car. Neymar knew that, in normal circumstances, he’d been completely horrified by his circumstances: having to endure a 2 hour car ride with someone he’d somehow managed to fit a whole year’s quota of embarrassment in just the last two months.

But he couldn’t focus. He was too scared. His mother had called again, slightly calmer. Rafaella was stable now. She’d lost a lot of blood in the car accident and the doctors were keeping her for overnight observation for signs of internal bleeding and to give her a transfusion or two, but she was better.

But it didn’t help. Nothing helped. Neymar was freaking out. He wished he’d been nicer to Rafaella this past month, but she’d kept reminding him of Leo and he’d avoided her under the pretext of studying. Guilt swamped him. What would he have done if she’d gotten seriously hurt and that had been their last interactions?

Tears pricked his eyes, but he was damned if he’d cry again. He leaned his head back against the seat and looked out through the window, willing himself to have some self-control.

He was imagining how Rafaella would look, how he should act normal and calm during the hospital visit, bracing himself for it when Leo finally spoke.

“You should sleep.”

Neymar jumped a little, his nerves already frayed. “I can’t sleep.”

“Have you eaten anything today?”

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know. I’m not a baby.” Neymar recognized that he was being snippy, possibly ungrateful, but crying and being angry with Leo was better than breaking down in front of him _twice_ in a day.

“Didn’t know only babies ate.”

Neymar smiled despite himself. “Shut up.” He wouldn’t have this courage on a normal day, but this felt so surreal that he lost his instinctive fear of Messi; he was more himself today with Leo than he’d been any other day.

Leo’s grinned. Then, he gently nudged Neymar’s elbow. “Glove compartment. Snacks.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just get it out. I get hungry all the time. You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to.”

Neymar complied, pulling out a bag of goodies. It was the roomiest glove compartment he’d ever seen—must be nice being rich and having such a spacious car. Curious, he peered into the bag, spying chips, sandwiches and chocolate aplenty. His mouth suddenly watering, he pulled out a sandwich and placed the bag between them.

To Leo’s credit, he didn’t say a word as Neymar munched. He didn’t even smirk, the jerk. Full of resentment, Neymar steadily snacked. He made his way through half the bag before Leo firmly placed a hand on his arm.

“Enough.” Leo’s voice was slightly raspy. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Neymar realized suddenly that that’s what he had been trying to do—trying to eat until he was sick, just to get the anxiety out of his mind, just to make himself feel _something_ different— _anything_.

Maybe Messi realized that because he turned the radio up louder. Neymar finally cottoned on that it was Portuguese and one of the most popular Brazilian songs right now. Surprised, he turned to Leo. “You listen to this?”

“Dani Alves.”

“Oh.” Neymar felt that jealousy again, suddenly picturing Dani sitting here, playing his music, laughing with Leo—because, of course Leo laughed with him.

Tears pricking his eyes—he wished suddenly Leo hadn’t come with him. He wanted to be with his family now, not with Leo; he wanted Leo to get lost, just to vanish from his life. He wanted Rafaella to be okay.

His throat was so tight, he knew he’d cry if he didn’t stop this now. Immediately, he turned away, faking a yawn and then closing his eyes firmly. Leo said nothing, save for turning the volume down slightly so Neymar could sleep in peace.

 

* * *

 

Neymar somehow must have managed to fall asleep because he woke up to Leo gently shaking his shoulder. He ran a hand over his face, slightly disoriented, wincing at the taste in his mouth. He looked over at Leo, whose face was inscrutable.

“This is your place, right?”

Ney looked around and then yelped. They’d reached home. “Yes!” He scrabbled for the door handle then stopped, turning around to look at Leo.

Leo waved his hand. “Go. I’ll bring the bags in.”

Sending a grateful smile to Messi over his shoulder, he got out of the car and jogged up the driveway, desperate to see his mom. He rang the doorbell and it opened almost immediately, as if his mom had been waiting for him to come home.

She rushed into his arms and burst into tears immediately. For a little while, he let her cry, his lips in her hair. He said nothing because he understood she was overwhelmed; his father was overseas on business and she’d been dealing with it all alone.

He ran his hands soothingly up and down her back, then gently turned her sideways, walking her to the living room. She calmed a little as they moved, but she clutched Neymar as he sat her down on the couch.

“Where are you going?” she asked urgently.

“Mama, a friend dropped me home. Let me bring him inside, okay?”

His mother simply nodded; normally she’d ask a million questions, but it was telling her that she couldn’t muster a single one now. “Come back quickly,” she pleaded and Neymar’s heart broke.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, putting his arm around her. “I’m here now. Everything will be fine.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes with a tissue he handed to her. He murmured nonsense comfort words as he backed out of the room, hurrying to the front door. Leo was standing at the threshold, hands jammed into his pockets.

Neymar knew he’d either seen or heard Neymar’s mom cry because Leo was visibly tense. His shoulders were drawn up, his eyes were hard and his mouth was flat. “Leo, come in,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to my mom.”

Leo shook his head. “No, Ney, I’ll go back. It’s fine. You guys should be alone.”

“Don’t be silly! Stay the night with us and go back tomorrow if you want. You can’t leave like that.” Without thinking, Neymar reached out and held Leo’s wrist.

To Ney’s surprise, Leo agreed. Ney had wholeheartedly meant his invitation, but he hadn’t expected Messi to accept. Neymar stepped inside, waving him inside, and Leo moved in quietly, his movements still assured even in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Neymar beckoned him to the living room, hoping his mother had calmed somewhat. She was still sniffling and her face was tear-streaked, but she offered Messi a warm, somewhat watery smile. “Hi, love,” she said. “Are you Neymar’s friend?” She reached out a hand, her eyes filling. “Did you drive him home? Thank you so much.”

Leo appeared visibly discomfited, but he took Neymar’s mother’s hand in both of his, squeezing lightly. “Of course, Mrs. Santos. I’m Leo. Can I make you some tea?”

Mrs. Santos shook her head, but Neymar nodded at Leo so he departed to the kitchen. Ney plopped down, grateful for the privacy and put his arm around his mother. “Tell me everything,” he said quietly.

 

* * *

 

Guests started trickling in. The visiting hours were over that day so neighbours, friends and some aunts came over. Leo served everyone tea and biscuits, while Ney sat next to his mom and held her hand as she talked to everyone. By the time they left, Mrs. Santos was exhausted and Neymar forced her to go to sleep. She protested, but fell asleep almost instantly.

Exhausted, Neymar trudged downstairs. Rafaella was okay, but he needed to see her. She was still being kept under sedation so it would be hard until she was conscious again, but at least she was safe.

_Thank God_ , Neymar thought, the realization of how lucky they were washing over him. It made him slightly weak and he leaned against the wall in the downstairs hallway, closing his eyes. He needed a shower and sleep. But he wanted to stay up until he was sure his mother wouldn’t wake up again.

“Hi.”

Neymar’s eyes flashed open and he saw Leo standing in the doorway to the kitchen. There was a smudge of something on his forehead and Neymar wondered briefly what it was.

Leo had been invaluable today. He had taken over smoothly, ordering pizza and sandwiches when the guests lingered past tea and biscuits. When Mrs. Santos had shaken her head at the sandwich, Leo made her soup. She drank half a bowl reluctantly and then pushed her bowl away. Leo somehow coaxed her into finishing the rest.

 “Hey. Thank you for everything today. You… you’re a lifesaver,” Neymar said wearily, rubbing his face.

Leo moved forward slowly, leaning his shoulder against the opposite wall, his eyes on Ney’s. He didn’t say anything for a long while and, in the ensuing silence, the house felt very quiet; the hairs on Neymar’s arm rose as they continued to hold the eye contact.

Neymar felt his heart starting to race, tension creeping into his shoulders, face growing warm. They stared at each other for a long time, the moment drawing on and on. Leo’s face was slightly in shadow, his expression unreadable.

“Anytime.” Leo’s voice was so low, it vibrated against Neymar’s skin, rumbling in his chest. “You should eat something.”

It took Neymar a minute to process this. His head was suddenly so dizzy, he just couldn’t concentrate. In the last few minutes, the air had suddenly charged, filled with something Neymar wasn’t able to recognize.

Neymar couldn’t tear his eyes away from Leo’s. “Yes,” he said very softly, so softly that it was almost a whisper.

Leo’s reply came very late. “What do you want?” he asked, very low.

Neymar’s hand tightened against his thighs. He was suddenly at a loss for words, his throat dry as dust. He stared at Leo, willing him to save him. Instead, Leo straightened slowly.

“Neymar?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want to eat?”

Neymar didn’t know if Leo had moved closer, but suddenly it seemed as if Leo was right next to him, surrounding him, overwhelming him. The hallway had shrunk to nothing; it felt like they were pressed up against each other.

“I…” Neymar faltered. He needed help.

When the phone rang, Neymar jumped. Jolted out of… _whatever_ that had been, he bolted into the living room where the house phone was and picked up, slightly breathless.

It was just a telemarketer and he hung up. But when he turned around, Leo had followed him. The moment was dead, though, and there was only slight awkwardness left. Neymar smiled at Leo weakly, who didn’t return the smile. “You should eat,” Leo said quietly. “Will you give me some pillows and a blanket for the couch?”

“No,” Neymar blurted out. “You can sleep in my room.”

Leo’s eyes flashed. “No, Neymar, I’ll sleep here.”

Neymar shook his head, aware that he was making a mistake. “I swear, it’s not a big deal. I have a queen sized bed. It’s big enough for us both. Besides, it’ll be a lot more comfortable than the couch.” He looked at his lumpy old gray couch and knew that would convince Leo.

Leo’s eyes followed his and a slight look of distaste crossed his expression. He grimaced and Ney laughed. “Just sleep in my room. I promise I don’t kick.”

Messi’s smile was slow, lazy. “I don’t think I can promise the same.”

Neymar grinned, feeling slightly giddy but not fully sure why. “I forgot you were a football star and all that.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “I’m not a star,” he said mildly, turning to the kitchen.

Neymar followed him. “Rafaella says you are.” At his sister’s name, his voice constricted slightly. “She thinks you’re amazing.”

Leo’s eyes softened too. He looked at Neymar. “She’s going to be okay, Ney. They always bounce back.”

Neymar hefted himself onto the kitchen counter where Leo busied himself warming up the soup. He watched as Leo moved around the kitchen, suddenly comforted by the simple routine. Leo glanced at him a couple of times and then finally said, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Actually, yes,” Neymar grinned. “I forgot about that. Come here.”

Leo’s expression was plainly suspicious. “What’re you going to do?”

“Nothing! There’s something on your face. I’m not lying. It’s over your forehead.” Neymar pointed at his right eyebrow.

Leo swiped above the wrong eyebrow, his thumb coming away clean. “Did I get it?”

“No, come here.”

Leo moved forward easily enough, but the last step that took him to stand between Neymar’s legs was slower, more deliberate. His face had gone blank and he wasn’t meeting Neymar’s eyes, instead staring at Ney’s hairline.

Neymar felt himself spreading his thighs a little, unsure why. His heart was beating a little fast again and he could smell Leo’s cologne even over the smell of the chicken soup. They weren’t touching, but the position felt so intimate that had anyone walked into the kitchen, Neymar was sure they would have leapt apart as if they’d been caught fucking.

At the thought, Neymar flushed hard. 

He tried desperately to swamp the images that swam, unbidden, to his mind, but couldn’t. Suddenly, he was picturing Leo’s pale skin against his darker body, their bodies flushed and warm and pressed against each other.

“Ney?”

Ney shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, I got… Sorry.” Avoiding Leo’s eyes, aware that his breathing had gone shallow, Neymar swiped at Leo’s forehead gently. Most of the smudge came off at the first touch so he rubbed again, removing whatever little was left. When it was all gone, he showed his thumb to Leo.

But Leo was looking at Neymar’s mouth, his eyes dark. Ney swallowed hard, his chest tightening again. “Leo!” he said too brightly, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Messi’s eyes snapped up to meet Ney’s then flashed down to his thumb. He smiled, but it was tight-lipped. “Thanks,” he said. He handed Neymar a tissue for his thumb and then moved back to the stove where gentle swirls of steam were rising from the pot.

They ate their soup in silence after that, both lost in their own thoughts. It was very awkward and Neymar knew he should say something, but he was thinking of Rafaella and missing her bright, bubbly laugh. He wished he could give her a hug.

When they were done, Leo stood up, his chair scraping back on the linoleum. “Let me,” he said as Ney made to wash the dishes. “Go up, use the bathroom.”

Neymar knew he should have protested, but he felt suddenly very tired again. His eyes were closing. He nodded and, on impulse, he moved to Leo and hugged him tightly. Leo was stiff in his arms but, just as Neymar was getting embarrassed, he moved to return the hug.

“Thank you,” Neymar murmured into Leo’s shoulder, which was warm and smelling slightly of sweat and Leo’s cologne.

Leo disengaged slowly, smiling slightly. “No problem,” he said very lightly. “Go on.”

And as Ney stood in front of him, smiling back, his fingers still sliding down Leo’s forearms, he understood suddenly what Rafaella saw in Leo. It was this—this sensation that Leo was a hero. He didn’t look it, certainly didn’t act like it, but he was a hero all the same. He was probably just as much a hero on the pitch as he was here.

Gratitude swamped Ney. Would he have survived the day without Leo? Probably not. And Leo had done it all for someone he barely knew, someone he didn’t even like.

Giving Leo’s arm one last squeeze, Neymar moved away, trudging out of the kitchen and up the stairs. His mind was still buzzing with Messi when he’d finished showering and brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas.

When he slid into bed, discreetly pushing Leo’s pillow further away from Neymar’s, he was exhausted. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, although he jerked awake when Leo slipped into bed next to him.

Disoriented, groggy, he blinked into the night, unsure of who it was until he finally remembered that Leo was sleeping with him. Somehow, the thought woke him up right up and his eyes widened in the darkness, trying to adjust to the darkness.

Leo’s breathing was still uneven which meant he was still awake. Ney didn’t know what made him do it, but he blurted, “Why did you ignore me yesterday?”

There was a long silence. Ney turned on his side, determined not to let Leo escape. “Hello? Are you awake?”

A long sigh came from Leo. “Neymar, you should sleep.”

That pissed Ney off. “No. I want to know. Why did you?”

Leo let out a long breath. “Ney,” he began in a low voice.

“Don’t lie.”

“What?”

“I want the truth. Tell me the truth.”

A short pause. “I don’t— _didn’t_ —think we could be friends.” When his words fell into appalled silence, Leo hurried on. “I don’t—I don’t think that now. I mean…” he trailed off, clearly nervous.

In another life, Neymar would have crowed about making Messi nervous. But here, in the moment, Ney felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He swallowed. “Why?” he said quietly, determined to sound unemotional.

“Ney—”

“No, never mind. It’s okay. You’re right. It’s late. Let’s sleep.” Neymar tried but failed to keep the hurt out of his voice. He rolled to his side, away from Leo, his throat thick.

“Ney, please.”

“Please just sleep, Leo. It’s fine.”

For a second or so, Neymar thought Leo was going to give up, but then a warm hand touched his back hesitantly. “Neymar, I’m sorry. I want to explain, but I don’t know if this is the right place.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Because it’s a long story.”

“Try me. Why don’t you think we should be friends?”

“Because that’s what you said, Ney.”

“What?”

“You told me that. The night of the party.”

Thoroughly shocked, Neymar rolled back to face Messi in the dark briefly trapping Leo’s hand under his body. He hefted up to allow Leo to steal his hand back. “When did I say I didn’t want to be _friends_?” But already he could he feel his stomach sinking.

“In the hallway outside the bathroom. You said… you said you couldn’t be friends with me.”

“Out of the blue?!” Neymar’s rose in horror and Leo shushed him.

“Your mom’s sleeping.” Leo sighed. “Listen, we really should talk about this tomorrow.’

“No, no, I want to talk about it now.” The dark was making it difficult for Neymar. He couldn’t get a read on Leo’s feelings at all. It was difficult enough when he could see Leo’s face, but in the complete darkness, he felt blind and it was frustrating.

“You told me about… about Felipe. You said you didn’t want me to be your Felipe. You said that’s why we couldn’t be friends. You were pretty upset.”

Neymar groaned in horror, covering his face with his hands. “I told you… _everything_ about Felipe?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess. I wouldn’t know if there was more.”

“I told you that we were…?”

“Lovers?”

“Jesus,” Neymar breathed. He was so embarrassed, he didn’t know what to do.

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“So you must have thought I liked you all this time!”

“Well, I thought you did… the night of the party. But then you showed up at my house for movie night and you seemed pretty fine then. You told me you didn’t like me. I believed you.”

Neymar felt a skittering feeling over his spine. Was it still true that he didn’t like Leo? He didn’t know. And the fact that they were discussing Felipe and Neymar’s possible crush on Leo in bed was not lost on him.

“But then why’d you avoid me the next day?”

“Because people tell the truth when they’re drunk.”

“You just said you believed me!”

“No, I do,” Leo said quietly. “But if instinct is telling you not to be friends with me, I think you should listen to your instinct.”

Neymar felt his stomach sink in horror. He hadn’t known it before, but this moment—it clarified that he didn’t want to lose Leo’s friendship—or whatever the hell this was.

“So why would you come here then? Why would you do all this?”

Leo was quiet. “I… I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. It was—it was instinct,” he said softly, laughing a little.

Neymar laughed too—more in relief than anything else. “Leo, I… I want to be friends.” It was the hardest words he’d ever said and made even harder by the fact that he couldn’t see Leo, couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t gauge anything.

“Ney—”

“No, listen. Please let sober me make this decision. Drunk Ney doesn’t get to choose. That’s not fair to me.”

Leo said nothing for a long second. “Okay.”

Ney couldn’t help it; he reached forward, grabbing Leo’s hand. “Really?”

Leo laughed at Neymar’s blatant excitement. “Yes, really. Let’s be friends. As long as I’m not your Felipe.”

Neymar turned a deep red, knowing he was being teased. He smacked Leo in the chest, a warm feeling spreading through his body. “Shut up.”

Leo rolled towards him. “Wanna know what you said?”

“No.”

“Come _on_.”

“No. I don’t wanna know.”

“You talked about my dick.”

Neymar yelped, covering his face with a pillow. “ _Stop_! I did not!”

Leo was laughing so hard, the whole bed was shaking. “You did. You said you didn’t care if I had magic dick like Felipe, you couldn’t fuck me. And that I couldn’t fuck you as good as he did.”

“Shut _uppppp_.” This was easily the worst moment of Neymar’s life by far. Neymar wondered if there was a way for the earth to just vaporize him right here right now.

“Imagine my shock. I barely knew you and you were talking about my magic dick. Which is totally magic, by the way.” Leo’s voice was warm and teasing.

Neymar knew Leo wasn’t flirting with him—he _knew_ that, but he couldn’t help it. His dick hardened a little. “I will _pay_ you to shut up.” His voice was muffled under the pillow. A thought occurred to him. “Oh _God_ , then I showed up to your house unannounced. You must have thought I was crazy.”

Leo was laughing again. He tugged at Neymar’s pillow, but Ney refused to let go. “I could tell you totally had the hots for me.”

“Shut _up_ , I _don’t_!” Neymar’s voice had gone squeaky and the pillow wasn’t providing any protection. Thank god it was dark—he would have had to bury himself in sand if he’d had to meet Leo’s eyes right now.

“It’s okay. You want the magic D. Who doesn’t?”

“Oh my God, oh my god, why won’t you _shut up_?”

“Okay, okay,” Leo said, laughing, gently tugging on Neymar’s pillow. “I’ll stop. We need to sleep anyway. Good night.”

“Good night,” Neymar said from beneath his pillow, his cheeks burning.

Leo moved around for a bit, then settled down, his breath evening. Neymar waited for a little while, his mind replaying the conversation over and over. He suppressed a moan of horror. He’d done a lot of stupid things in his life, but this might take the cake. He was never drinking again, never ever _ever_.

Just when he thought it was safe to replace the pillow again, Leo murmured, “By the way, I’d totally fuck you better than Felipe.”

Neymar sat up, whacking him hard with the pillow. “SHUT UP,” he roared over Leo’s laughing.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think! :)


	6. Sounds Like A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so a long chapter cancels out a cliffhanger, right? right.

Neymar spent the majority of the next two weeks in the library, knowing full well that he needed to make up for all the time he would spend on the weekends with Rafaella. She was gradually getting better, having been discharged after two days. She seemed physically healthier, but had woken up most nights with nightmares, sweating and crying.

She also refused to go anywhere in a car now, which Neymar could understand. He was still feeling guilty about the few weeks before the accident that he’d spent avoiding her calls so he went above and beyond to make up for it, until she finally forbade him from coming home and told him to go study.

His studying partner was Marcelo, who was the perfect blend of responsible and fun. He was similar to Neymar in that they required very little effort to keep up their grades and so it meant that they could both whine for breaks without feeling guilty about potentially harming the other person’s cramming.

Neymar didn’t see most of his friends other than Dani; his roommate, Phil; and Marcelo—he preferred it that way. Less distractions. The only new thing in his life had been the texting with Leo.

It had started with Neymar thanking him for helping him out with his sister, but it had slowly progressed to a conversation every two or three days. And then somehow, it became a conversation that never really ended, both of them messaging at whim, their replies spaced from between a few minutes apart to several hours, depending on how busy they were.

Leo was a bad texter. He frequently disappeared during conversations and very rarely typed more than a few sentences. More often than not, when he had something to say, he called Ney up.

The first time it had happened, Neymar had freaked out a little, his heart pounding in his chest as he sat in front of his laptop at the library.

It had turned out that Leo had extra food and wanted to know if Neymar wanted to swing by to share. Neymar would have gone, but the drive to Leo’s apartment and the late hour had made him laugh and say no. They’d exchanged a few other pleasantries before Leo hung up, telling him to go home and get a life.

Neymar found himself amused and touched by these weird tiny phone calls—and he gathered that this was Leo’s friendship style. Leo also kept Neymar up on his football season—they were playing a match almost every weekend now and even though Leo’d issued Neymar an open invitation to all his games, Neymar hadn’t been able to go.

He still hadn’t seen Leo play yet, even though when he’d told Marcelo that, Marcelo’s eyes had bugged out.

“What are you _waiting_ for?”

Neymar shrugged. “It just hasn’t worked out well, timing-wise.”

“Ney, listen to me. You have to see Leo play.”

Neymar frowned. “I will. One of these days—”

“No, Ney, you aren’t getting it.” Marcelo leaned forward, his eyes serious. “You have to see Leo play. He could have gone pro.”

Neymar’s eyebrows raised at that. “Why didn’t he?”

Marcelo shrugged. “Nobody really knows. They tried convincing him for a long time. Scouts would come by all the time. He even got offered spots in European teams. He just never wanted to go.”

For some reason, this information left Neymar slightly disoriented. Maybe it was the insight into how little he really knew about Leo, how much friendship there was still left to bridge between them. Maybe it was the knowledge that he might never have met Leo if he’d left to play in Europe.

“I’ll try going to the next match.”

“You should. We have a big game this weekend. Come watch.”

Neymar nodded, refocusing on his laptop in front of him. His mind was wandering. He’d known that this weekend was the match everyone was talking about, versus their biggest college rivals. It was a home game, which only added to the excitement. Even his normally taciturn roommate had deigned to ask Neymar if he was going.

The problem was, he’d promised Rafaella he’d take her out to a movie this weekend and he couldn’t very well break the promise. Biting his lip, he vowed to go watch the next time Messi played.

After all, how good could he really be?

 

* * *

 

_Spaghetti or a sandwich?_

Neymar grinned, unlocking his screen with his fingerprint. He opened his messages, ignoring the texts from other people and typed a reply to Leo.

_What type of sandwich_

He put his phone away, smiling, concentrating on the show again. Leo’s reply came quick enough that he didn’t have to unlock his phone again.

_BLT_

_BLT it is_

Leo replied with a thumbs-up emoji and Neymar grinned, locking his phone. Lately, Leo had taken to texting his dinner choices to Neymar—after they’d shared a long conversation where they’d discovered they were both foodies, moaning about their mutual love of food.

He was learning things about Leo this way: that he hated mayo, that he put mustard on everything, that he loved carrots but tomatoes made him want to puke. And whenever Leo ate something he knew Neymar would love he often Snapped it to him with a smirky selfie, usually one that showed more of his nostrils than anything else.

Neymar was pulled from his thoughts by his phone buzzing. He glanced at the lock screen and saw it was another message from Leo. He pressed his thumb against the sensor and swiped the conversation open.

_I ate too much ugh_

_How could you eat too much of a sandwich_

_I ate 3_

_LOL you pig, serves you right_

_You’re not even sympathetic_

_You’re a jock, don’t you have a cheerleader or something to baby you_

_But I want you to baby me_

Neymar felt his cheeks flame with colour. He knew Leo was just joking, that it was just texting, that it meant nothing, but it still made him giddy. Leo was an incurable flirt, something Neymar was surprised to discover. He was charismatic and flirtatious and demanded attention—and Neymar often felt himself getting so distracted by Leo’s texts that he lost sight of his surroundings.

_Too bad_

_Are you still watching that show_

_Yes leave me alone_

_Come over and watch it with me_

_No you live a million miles from me_

_So glad you’re not a Math major_

Neymar laughed despite himself. He tossed the phone away without replying. To his surprise, his phone buzzed again a minute later.

_I can come over if you want_

Neymar’s cheeks heated again and he had to pause the show as blood rushed to his head. He felt his heart pounding and his hands go damp. He took a deep breath, not knowing what to say.

_No I’m going to bed soon anyway_

_Alright sleepy head_

He liked that about Messi, that he didn’t get offended, that he understood Neymar’s feelings. It made their friendship easy and simple. Neymar wondered how he’d misunderstood Leo so fundamentally—how he was so different from who Ney had thought he was when they’d first met.

He fell asleep like that with his laptop still flickering and Leo on his mind.

 

* * *

 

Neymar slung an arm around Rafaella as they walked around the park, licking their ice-cream cones. It was too cold for ice-cream, really, but it had been their tradition for as long as they could remember: movie and then an ice-cream.

As promised, Neymar had come home for the weekend to take Rafaella out for a movie. They’d even gone to dinner before going to the park they’d played in for years and years as kids.

“Well, why won’t you just tell her to fuck off?” Neymar said after she’d finished ranting about a classmate of hers who had sabotaged her during a group project and now wanted to be invited to Rafaella’s birthday party.

“I can’t. She’s friends with Lindsey.”

Lindsey was Rafaella’s best friend. Neymar patted her arm consolingly. “Well, then, just ignore her. You don’t have to invite her just cause she’s dropping hints.”

Rafaella peered up at him. “I’m just worried that Lindsey might tell me to.”

“Tell her you don’t like her.”

“I can’t do that.”

Neymar grinned. “Sure you can. Tell her you don’t like her racoon-faced, ugly, ass-smelling friend.”

Rafaella was laughing. “You’re no help at all.”

Neymar kissed her lightly on her temple. “Tell you what, just tell Lindsey that you want only close friends at your party.”

“You think she’d buy that?”

“She’ll know you don’t want to invite her. She’ll probably get the hint.”

Rafaella sighed, leaning her head against Neymar’s chest. “You’re right. Lin’s pretty good at that stuff.”

Neymar squeezed her arm briefly. “It’ll be fine, I promise. Birthdays are special. Don’t let the llama-faced, kale-eating loser ruin your day.

“Hey, I like kale!”

“Applies to you too, then.”

Rafaella was giggling, her arms coming up to hug Neymar. “How do you have any friends?”

Neymar had a retort ready, but his phone vibrated. He pulled it out, still smiling.

_Asshole. Where are you_

Frowning, Neymar placed the phone back in his pocket. Dani had been trying to convince him all day to come to the post-match celebration in Leo and Geri’s house. Neymar had tried saying no, but that had led to a flood of abuse so he’d just stopped replying, hoping Dani would forget.

But Dani could be surprisingly persistent when he wanted to.

“Dani again?”

Neymar smiled down at Rafaella. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

Rafaella dropped her arms, stepping back. “You should go, Ney.”

“No. I said I was spending the weekend with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“We spent all day together! You haven’t gone out with your friends in ages. Seriously. You should go.”

The truth was, Neymar wanted to go. But he didn’t want to hurt Rafaella’s feelings and he was still carrying the guilt of avoiding her in his heart. The momentary hesitation allowed Rafaella to barrel forward. “Come on! Go, Neymar. Text him back, tell him you’re coming.”

“No, it’ll take me forever to go home and then I don’t have a ride to Leo’s—it’ll just take forever. It’s too late, never mind.”

“Give me your phone.”

“No, Rafa. I’m here with you. Let’s just enjoy the evening.”

Rafaella placed her hands on her hips. “Neymar.”

Ney grinned at her. He felt a rush of affection for his little sister, grateful that she was healthy and safe and okay. He pulled out his phone and gave it to her, not wanting to have to say no to her.

She punched his passcode in without a second thought. Immediately, she called Dani. Neymar’s eyes widened and he reached for the phone, but she skipped out of the way.

“Dani? Hi! This is Rafaella.” She waved Neymar away, who was shaking his head in exasperation. “I’m good! Thank you. Yes, doing much better. Yeah, I went back about a week ago. It’s been busy, you know how it is.” She laughed at something Dani said. “Yes, he’s with me. I need a favour from you, though. Will you pick Neymar up and take him with you to Messi’s place? Yes, from his apartment. In about two hours? Perfect! Thank you, Dani.”

When she hung up the phone, a smug smile on her face, Neymar huffed. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m still your favourite, though.”

He smiled at her, an arm coming around her. “Yes, you are.”

~~

Neymar was thankful that Ter Stegen, also hitching a ride with Dani, could keep him company in the backseat. It would have been awful sitting in the car with Dani’s roaming hands all over Joana who couldn’t stop giggling for the life of her.

“You two are nasty,” Neymar finally said when Dani’s fingers went so far up Joana’s skirt that she squealed.

Marc was laughing next to him. “Yeah, you’ll kill us all if you won’t concentrate on the road.”

Dani was in a raucous mood, the thrill of beating their biggests rivals by 4-0 making him euphoric. “What a way to die with my fingers in Jo’s pu—“

Neymar and Marc shouted even louder than Joana at that, drowning the rest of his words in horror. Dani cackled, finally setting both his hands on the steering well. “Don’t be jealous, boys, just cause I have a lady and you don’t.”

“Hey, the only single person in this car is Ney.”

Neymar turned to Marc at that, mouth agape. “Thanks, traitor. I thought you were on my side.”

“No, single people are all on their own.”

Neymar crossed his arms, his mouth flat. “Was that a pun?”

Dani laughed uproariously while even Joana, who was generally pretty quiet, grinned and high-fived Marc. But before Marc could say anything more, Dani pulled up in front of Joana’s sorority. She had her own party to go to so she waved bye at Marc and Neymar before making out with Dani for far too long.

When Dani’s hands began roaming again, Neymar loudly cleared his throat. They broke apart, Joana flushed and grinning. She winked at Neymar as she exited the car. “Good night, boys! Have fun.”

Marc slipped into the passenger seat, leaving Neymar by himself in the back. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was from Leo.

_You coming?_

_Yeah, be there in ten_

Leo didn’t reply—as Neymar expected. But he found himself smiling nevertheless, smoothing his sleeve over the front of his phone, cleaning it of smudges. When he raised his head, he saw Dani looking at him in the rearview mirror.

Dani’s eyes were twinkling as if he knew who had messaged Neymar. “What?” Neymar asked defensively.

Dani smiled, shrugging. The rest of the ride was punctuated with Dani’s random bursts of singing, while Marc occasionally twisted in his seat to tell Neymar something.

 

* * *

 

Leo’s apartment was less packed than the first time Neymar had gone, but it was still chock full of players. The atmosphere was festive—with everyone shouting and laughing at each other. Music was blaring in a corner and pizza littered every surface of the apartment.

Ney found Leo sitting on the couch next to Kun, who had an arm around him. Messi was sipping a soda and laughing at a story Kun was relating. Neymar suddenly remembered the first night he’d seen them at the bar, when he’d thought they were together.

Leo spotted him then, eyes meeting Neymar’s from across the apartment. He didn’t wave or shout a hello, but his mouth quirked up a little, a small smile stretching his lips. Neymar found himself returning the same small smile, as if they were sharing a secret.

Kun was still talking into Leo’s ear, so Ney turned away, greeting Masche who was standing about a foot or so away, arms crossed over his chest. He smiled at Neymar, which shocked him enough to make him forget his power of speech for a few minutes.

He moved through the apartment, greeting the people he knew. Geri threw his arms around Neymar and Ney laughed, squeezing him in return, congratulating him. Everyone was far drunker than him, but he willingly let himself be dragged into the middle of the floor, dancing a little.

“Hey, hey, everyone settle down! We’re going to start the movie!”

There was a chorus of protests at Masche as he shouted over the noise. “No, no, no partying tonight. We gotta keep sober. Important games coming up. Enough drinking.”

He pointed at Geri whose arm was still around Neymar. “That means you. Go drink some water.”

Everyone laughed. Geri raised his hands in supplication, saying lightly, “Yes, boss.”

Neymar smiled, his eyes drawn to Leo. Messi was looking at him too and he winked at Neymar. He gestured towards the couch, at an empty spot in between Kun and Marcelo. Ney nodded, making his way over, plopping down.

Marcelo high-fived him in greeting as Neymar shouted his congratulations over the din. Marcelo wasn’t as tipsy as the rest of the guys in the apartment, but he was still drunk enough to throw an arm around Neymar and kiss him on the cheek.

Ney laughed, slipping an arm around Marcelo’s waist in response. He turned to Kun. “Hey! You came down for the match?”

Kun nodded, grinning. “It was a big one so I drove down. This one scored two goals tonight and made an assist.” He nudged Leo with his elbow, smiling affectionately at him.

Neymar’s eyes met Leo’s. Leo was looking embarrassed, but happy. Ney felt a slight sinking feeling in his chest, but didn’t know why. “Congratulations, football star,” he said heartily, trying to compensate.

Leo inclined his head. “Why didn’t you come?”

Neymar opened his mouth, but Masche started shouting at everyone to be quiet so he leaned back, his mouth clicking shut. The lights were dimmed as the movie began to play. Everyone was still too restless, too fired up to watch the movie, so there was plenty of whispering as the first few scenes flashed across the TV.

“What movie are we watching?” Ney whispered into Marcelo’s ear.

“I have no idea,” Marcelo whispered back.

Neymar leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest as finally everyone began to quieten. It was pretty clear early on that it was a scary movie—he normally hated them, but surrounded by people, he felt safe enough to relax.

But what he hadn’t anticipated was that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the movie because of the idiots next to him. Kun spent most of his time whispering to Leo, nudging and touching him repeatedly. Neymar tried to ignore them, but he found his eyes drifting to Kun’s hands, which seemed to be constantly on Leo. Leo didn’t initiate the contact as far as Neymar could tell, but Ney noticed he didn’t seem unwilling or perturbed by it.

Neymar wondered if they were dating. The truth was, he had never asked Leo if he was single and no one had told him. But surely Dani and Geri wouldn’t have tried to set him up with Leo if he was in a relationship, right?

He wouldn’t put it past them, though, Neymar thought darkly. Dani was enough of an asshole to do it—just to fuck with Neymar.

The thoughts ricocheted around his head for most of the movie. In between, he heard Kun whispering, “That’s something you’d do,” during a sex scene, Leo laughing in response.

Somehow, the exchange made Neymar flush and he wished he was sitting somewhere else where he didn’t have to hear this lovefest. If he knew Kun any better, he could have made a snarky comment, but they weren’t close enough for that.

Luckily, Kun got up a few minutes later to use the bathroom and Leo looked over at Neymar, at the sudden empty space between them, smiling. Leo patted the space next to him, an invitation.

Neymar hesitated just briefly, slightly uncomfortable, but then shifted over. He didn’t sit as close as Kun had, maintaining some distance.

“How’s Rafaella? And your mom?” Leo whispered.

Neymar smiled, something in his chest easing. Leo had asked about them repeatedly over the last couple of weeks. “They’re both good. I met Rafaella today. Took her to a movie.”

Leo nodded. “How come you finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh?” His eyes were twinkling.

“Thought you might have missed me. Wanted to put you out of your misery.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Tell the truth. Did you finally finish studying everything in that library? You and the librarian have a fight or something?”

“Shut up, I don’t study that much.”

Leo laughed very softly. “We can ask Dani what he thinks.”

“What I think about what?” Dani called from another chair.

“Does Neymar study too much?”

There was a chorus of loud _yes_ es, not just from Dani, but from Geri and Marcelo as well. He looked at all of them, glaring. “Thanks, assholes.”

There was light laughter. “I think it’s that librarian. He’s always eye-fucking her.” Geri was cackling, waggling his eyebrows at Neymar.

Leo was grinning. “I said the same thing.”

Neymar huffed. “Listen, I’m not a dumb jock, okay. Some of us have a brain.”

A bunch of _oooh_ s resonated from almost everyone. But they were all laughing at Neymar. Irritated, before they could _really_ get going, Neymar stood up, muttering, “I’m going to get more pizza.”

More laughter followed as Ney escaped into the kitchen.

The quiet of the kitchen made Neymar feel settled and he moved forward towards a pizza box, flipping it up to peer inside. He saw anchovies and made a face, closing the box back up. He opened up another one and spied pepperoni. Smiling in satisfaction, he pulled a gooey, cheesy slice.

It was still warm and he bit into it, letting the flavour explode in his mouth.

“So no anchovies.”

Neymar jumped a little and turned around to look at Leo in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “Tell me you didn’t order them.”

“What if I did?”

“Then our friendship is over.”

Leo smiled. “Then how would I ever confess?”

Neymar took another bite, grinning. “Don’t want to watch the movie?”

“I’ve seen it before.” Leo ambled forward, taking the slice out of Neymar’s hand and munching.

“Get your own slice, asshole,” Neymar mumbled, opening up the box and taking out another piece.

“Asshole?”

Neymar looked up. He realized that he’d never really joked with Leo like that before. But somehow that night with Leo in his bed had erased all his fear of him—he could now treat him like any of his other friends. “ _Major_ asshole.”

Leo finished his piece, wiping his fingers on a paper towel. “Well,” he said, casually swiping Neymar’s second slice. “Might as well live up to it.”

Outraged, Neymar glared at him. “The pizza is _right_ next to you. Why can’t you take your own slice?”

“More fun this way,” Leo cheerfully announced.

Neymar rolled his eyes, turning towards the sink. He poured himself a glass of water, sipping slowly before he faced Leo again. “So congratulations. Heard you had a great game.”

“Thank you,” Leo said, eyes soft. “You should have come.”

He wasn’t reproaching Neymar, but Ney winced anyway. “I’m sorry, I’d promised Rafaella.”

Leo smiled. “It’s okay. Come next time, though, okay?”

“I will.”

They fell into a silence, Neymar sipping his water while Leo picked a third slice from the box, polishing it off quickly.

“How do you eat so much?”

“Athlete’s metabolism. It’s awesome.”

“That seems unfair.”

Leo laughed. “Hey, what’re you doing next weekend?”

“Nothing planned, why?”

“There’s a game, Argentina-Brazil, U-23 next weekend. I got two free tickets from a friend. Do you wanna go with me?”

Neymar felt his heart skip a beat, sweat pooling in his armpits. “Just me and you?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun when Argentina wins and I can laugh right in a Brazilian’s face.”

Neymar raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so _that’s_ why you want me there.”

Leo’s grin was slow and warm. “What other reason could there be?”

“Sure, it sounds fun.”

“We can go get some dinner after the game too. There’s this really great Italian restaurant that’s a few minutes away from the stadium. I think you’ll love it.”

Neymar felt his face turn warm, but determinedly kept a straight expression, thanking God that his brown skin didn’t show him blushing. “Sounds like a date.”

“Sounds like.”

Neymar wasn’t able to stop the smile spreading across his face. “Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up at your place? I’ll send you the time later.”

Neymar nodded, turning away so he could try to stop himself from smiling like a loon. His chest was fluttering in pleasure, his stomach jumping.

Suddenly, he was very glad he came tonight.

 

* * *

 

Leo was prompt, dressed in black pants and a blue-and-white striped jersey. Neymar tsked when he opened the door, even though he himself was wearing the Brazilian national jersey.

Leo grinned. “Who’s yours? Mine’s Maradona.”

“Marta.”

Leo raised his eyebrows, whistling. “Good choice.”

Neymar winked. Rafaella loved Marta and she’d bought it for Neymar—so he wore it whenever he could because it reminded him of Rafaella and, especially now, that was important for him. “Let’s go?”

“Do you have a change of clothes? It’s just that we’re going to the restaurant after and they’re not too fussy, but if you wanted to change then…” Leo trailed off, shrugging.

Neymar paused. He hadn’t thought of that. “Are you changing?”

“Yeah, I have a shirt in the back.”

“Oh shit. Okay, hold on, let me pick something up real quick.” He waved Leo in, pointing to the living room. “Sit if you want. I’ll be a minute.”

Neymar jogged into his room, sliding his closet door open, feeling flustered. He hadn’t considered that they might have to _dress_ up and his already frayed nerves suddenly started zinging again.

“It’s no big deal, you know.”

Neymar glanced at the doorway where Leo was leaning, a smile on his face. He was looking around Ney’s room. Ney, too, followed his gaze and blushed in embarrassment. His bedroom was an utter mess.

He waved at Leo. “Get outtttt,” he moaned.

Leo grinned. “It’s fine. Always good to know what the bedroom looks like,” he said, winking.

“Shut up,” Neymar said, voice muffled as he dived into his closet.

“Hey, it looks lived-in. Easy to picture you staying here.”

Neymar poked his head out of his closet, smirking. “You picture me in my bedroom a lot, do you?”

To his delight, Leo’s ears turned red. “We’re getting late, asshole.”

Neymar’s laugh was high-pitched and joyful. “Yes, sir. I’m almost done.” Wrenching a shirt from the back of his closet, he shouted, “A-HA! Found it. Let’s go.”

When he emerged from the closet, smiling from ear to ear, Leo was grinning. “Are you ready to lose?”

“Big talk. Too bad you’re gonna have to take it all back soon.”

The gentle smack talk continued right up to the beginning of the game. Their seats were fairly decent, midway through the bleachers so that the players didn’t look like they were miles away. It was a pretty substantial crowd and soon the booing and the cheers filled the stadium with the atmosphere of a big game.

Argentina scored first and Leo howled, jumping up and down. He managed to be a smirky, overconfident asshole for all of 15 minutes before Brazil made it even with a golazo of their own. Neymar’s relieved shout was drowned in the eruptions of the stadium, but he managed to scream a cheer directly into Leo’s right ear.

Leo winced and laughed, but allowed it. It ended in a draw which Neymar privately thought was a good thing because, even though he didn’t care much about football, he had a feeling Leo might be a sore loser and he didn’t want their evening ruined.

He pretended to be mad about it, shouting about a soft penalty that could have been given but wasn’t. Leo shouted right back, stating that it wasn’t even a foul but possibly a dive, an accusation that had Neymar vouching for his player’s virtue even though he hadn’t even heard of the guy before the match.

They interrupted their fight to ask someone to take their picture as the match ended. The girl gestured for them to get closer so Neymar slipped his arm around Leo, smiling toothily at the camera. The picture turned out surprisingly well so he posted it to Instagram with the caption _should have won, but I’ll give this one to you_!

He tagged Leo after asking for his Instagram and soon the likes and comments began pouring in. Neymar scrolled through his notifications, smiling, as Leo drove them out of the parking and onto the highway.

He stopped dead.

_10aguerosergiokun started following you._

_10aguerosergiokun liked your post_.

_10aguerosergiokun_ _left a comment on your photo_ : _VAMOS ARGENTINA CARAJO!_

Just to double check, Neymar clicked on the profile and saw it was Kun. He hesitated a second and then clicked ‘Follow’.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked, looking over.

Neymar realized he was frowning and wiped his expression clean. “Nothing, just had a problem with my data. It’s fine now.” He locked his phone, slipping it into his pocket. “When are we changing?”

~~

When Leo parked the car and turned, smiling wickedly, Neymar was understandably wary. He didn’t know what exactly he was in for until Leo reached for the shirt in the backseat.

“Here?” Ney yelped.

Leo shrugged. “Where else?”

Where else, indeed. But somehow the act of changing next to Leo, in a suddenly too-small car, while the radio was off, in the echoing silence—it made Neymar flustered. He hesitated too long and found that he was staring directly at Leo when he pulled his jersey off.

He’d seen Leo bare-chested before, of course, but somehow the act of _undressing_ was far more intimate and sexy than seeing him already disrobed. It made Neymar’s throat go dry and he turned away.

But, of course, the soft shushing sounds of Leo’s clothes as they shifted, as he slipped his shirt on made it easy for Neymar to picture it, picture Leo’s muscles jumping and moving as he wore the new shirt. Neymar swallowed, shutting his eyes, but it made things worse so he popped his eyes open in horror.

“Aren’t you going to change?”

“Yeah,” Neymar said, his voice cracking embarrassingly. He ignored it, turning around without looking at Leo and grabbing his own shirt from the backseat.

He only realized his mistake after glancing up and seeing Leo smirking at him.

His cheeks flushed and he glared. “Turn around.”

“No.”

Neymar gaped a little, laughing a little. “Turn around, you little shit.”

“Make me.”

Leo leaned back, his expression cocky and amused. His eyes were flashing, his arms crossed as he raised his eyebrows, as if daring Neymar.

“Listen, I’m not an athlete. We don’t take our clothes off in front of each other all the damn time. Some of us have modesty.”

“Are some of us just chickens?”

Neymar’s jaw fell open. “Fine. Stare all you want, perv.”

He slipped his jersey off as quickly as he could, trying to remain nonchalant, but he could feel his heart pounding and hoped his pulse wasn’t visible in his throat. He didn’t meet Leo’s eyes, instead clumsily slipping on the white shirt he’d brought along.

When he started buttoning it up, he looked up at Leo. To his surprise, Leo wasn’t watching, but had instead turned to the front, staring out of the windshield, his jaw tense. Neymar frowned, wondering if he was okay.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, smiling slightly and turning to look at Neymar. “Ready?”

Ney nodded, jumping out of the car in a smooth bound. “I’m ready to eat you under the table,” he sang.

Leo winced. “Please never sing.”

“Are you suuuure?” Neymar continued, giggling at Leo’s horrified expression. He felt happy and giddy and, as they stepped inside the restaurant and Leo’s hand came to rest on the small of his back, Neymar felt sure he wouldn’t ever stop smiling.

 

* * *

 

They ate so much that, at the end of it, Neymar had his forehead pressed into the tablecloth, moaning in pain.

Leo laughed quietly. “Stop embarrassing me.”

“I’m dying and all you care about is your image.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Neymar turned his face so his cheek was against the soft cloth. “This is what you say to a dying man?”

“Get up and I’ll buy you dessert.”

“What kind?”

“Tiramisu?”

Neymar straightened reluctantly, still holding his stomach. “Fine, but I want a big piece.”

Leo raised his eyebrows, smiling. “I thought you’d eaten too much?”

“Yes, but this is dessert. It’s a separate thing.”

Leo laughed. They’d had this conversation before but Neymar’s insistence on dessert being a separate meal for a separate stomach seemed to continue to amuse him. He waved the waiter over. “Can we get the check and a tiramisu to go, please?”

“To go?”

“You’ll see.”

Neymar leaned back, too full to argue. They fell into a comfortable silence, looking around at the small intimate restaurant, the gentle yellow lighting casting shadows over the red-and-white tables. He glanced across the table at Leo.

Leo was humming along to the music in the restaurant, his fingers playing gently with his unused dessert fork. Neymar felt a powerful feeling rise in his chest as he looked at Leo, remembering when he’d thought Leo wasn’t handsome, when he was surprised that Rafaella had found him hot.

Leo turned and caught him looking. “You’re going to like this part.”

“Which part?”

“What happens after we leave.”

When the check came, they fought for a while over it until Leo said Ney could pay for the next time. Neymar subsided at that, mostly, he suspected, because he was so disoriented at the possibility of another day like this.

They left the restaurant in a comfortable silence, buckling into Leo’s car quietly. He fiddled with the radio for a little while, playing the music at a low volume and then started to drive.

When Neymar opened his mouth, Leo said, “No questions. You’ll see.”

Neymar didn’t argue, lolling his head back against the seat and feeling sleepy. Instead, he looked out his window, tapping his fingers along with the music, watching as the busy highways turned to the familiar route to college.

“Where are we going?”

“Stop asking so many questions.”

Neymar hmphed. “I want the tiramisu.”

“You’ll get it.”

When Leo finally pulled into the parking lot of their college stadium, Neymar raised his eyebrows. “You brought me here?” He felt a little disappointed. He’d expected something… well, not this. He’d expected a thoughtful surprise, not Leo taking him somewhere he could practice football.

He cursed himself for getting too excited about it, for thinking it was going to be something special. Served him right.

“Yeah, is it okay?”

Neymar nodded, swallowing his frustration and pasting on a smile. “Let’s go.”

Leo fished a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the dressing rooms. Neymar stepped inside, feeling interest spiking in his chest despite himself. He looked around, at the quiet room, at the shoes and bags strewn around. It smelled of sweat and something else, something he couldn’t identify.

“Come.”

Leo led him through the room to the door at the end and opened it. Neymar’s jaw dropped. The door opened into the tunnel leading to the stadium.

He’d been here before, of course, but never at night, and never from this vantage point. He stepped through the almost-black pitch, at the wet grass under his sneakers. The sky was clear and he could see the stars dotting the night sky.

Neymar turned once, looking at the empty bleachers, able to see very little in the darkness. He turned to Leo, who was standing a little way off, his fingers jammed into his pockets.

“You like it?”

Leo’s voice sounded almost shy. And Neymar found himself smiling, something filling his veins. “Yes,” he whispered. “A lot. Do you come here often?”

Leo nodded. “Sometimes, it’s because I’m practicing and it just ends up getting late. But sometimes I just come here cause it’s so peaceful. It reminds me of my grandma.”

“Your grandma?”

Leo was quiet for so long that Neymar thought he was going to avoid the question. “Yeah. I owe her everything.”

Neymar sensed they were on a precipice of something, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. He kept silent, unsure if he should press or not.

“Anyway, never mind about that. Let’s have the tiramisu, huh?”

Leo’s voice sounded false, ringing too loud in the silence of the stadium. Neymar felt disappointment lick at his insides, knowing he’d made the wrong decision—he should have pressed. But he followed, the moment lost, as Leo plopped down onto the grass.

They sat down, passing the tiramisu quietly back and forth. It was delicious, melting on Neymar’s tongue and making him groan in appreciation.

After a while, they both lay back on their elbows, staring up at the night sky. The silence was slightly uncomfortable, but not enough for either of them to break it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mm?”

“One time, you asked me why I asked Dani to introduce us. And when I said I was curious, you kinda got weird on me. What was that about?”

Leo laughed a little. “I don’t know, I don’t really remember.”

Neymar turned on his side, skeptical. “Are you sure?”

It was still too dark for Ney to really make out Leo’s features in the dark, but he could feel Leo looking back at him steadily. “It’s just… a weird thing. Someone being curious to see you. It happens to me a lot.”

“Because of football?”

“Yeah. It’s just… it’s weird.”

“You hate it,” Neymar said, guilt making him flush.

“Well, yeah,” Leo admitted. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! You don’t like people reducing you to that. I get it.”

“Do you?”

The comment sounded rude, but Neymar recognized it for what it was: a genuine question. “Not as much as you probably,” he said, laughing. “But I understand.”

“It’s weird.”

“Are you that good?”

“What?”

Neymar gestured, looking for the words. “Well, are you that good? Is that why it happens to you?”

Leo hesitated. “I’m decent.”

A few months ago, Neymar would have identified his words as false modesty but now he wondered. He eyed Leo in the darkness, wishing there was some light. It was moments like this that made him realise how little he knew Leo.

They fell into silence. Neymar knew now was the perfect time to ask Leo why he hadn’t gone pro, but something stopped him. He felt loath to disturb the calm that had settled over them, like a blanket. This disturbing intimacy confused him—he’d always been a happy, merry person, not the kind to share deep conversations under the stars with a footballer.

He was grateful for the tiramisu container between them—it was a buffer, it protected Neymar. From what, he didn’t know. But he as he lay there, looking up at the stars, listening to the crickets, to Leo breathing next to him, he felt strangely vulnerable, like he’d been opened up without his permission.

Leo yawning pulled him from his thoughts. Grinning, he rolled to face Leo. “Is that a hint?”

Leo laughed. “Yes. I have early practice tomorrow. And you probably have to study, right?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Leo stood up, chuckling, jogging to the edge of the field and tossing the tiramisu container in the trash. “Are you coming?” he called.

Neymar ignored him, feeling lazy and lolling on the grass. He heard Leo’s footsteps crunching through the grass, approaching him.

Leo nudged him with a foot. “Are you moving here?”

“I’m too full to move.”

“Here.” Leo offered his hand and, lazily, Neymar slipped his fingers through his, allowing Leo to heft him up easily.

They trudged to the car, both of them quiet, lost in their own thoughts. As they got into the car, Leo turned to him before turning the engine on. “Wasn’t the food good?”

Neymar buckled himself in. “So good. I think I ruptured my spleen from eating.”

Leo grinned, turning the key in the ignition. “You’d die if you ruptured your spleen, idiot.”

“That’s why I said I was dying. You never believe me.”

Leo shook his head, but Neymar could see he was smiling. Neymar felt a smile tugging at his own lips and he turned to look out of the window. The ride to Neymar’s apartment was short—he lived only minutes away from the stadium.

He felt regret in the pit of his stomach as he unbuckled, unwilling for the night to be over. To his surprise, Leo turned the engine off, parking outside the doors of his apartment building.

“Well. Good night.”

Neymar smiled, feeling suddenly nervous. Was he expected to invite Leo up? But this wasn’t a date, was it? Did he have to ask Leo in for a nightcap? “Good night. Thanks for the invite. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too. I’ll see you soon.”

Leo wasn’t smiling now, his face serious and a little closed off. A little uncomfortable, Neymar hesitated and then got out of the car. He waved from the door before watching Leo drive off.

But the discomfort vanished as he got into the elevator, memories of the night flooding him. He felt himself smiling like a fool by himself as he remembered how Leo had taken him to his special place, to his private sanctuary.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, thinking it was Leo. Instead, he was surprised to find a text from Dani.

_Call me, need to talk to you asap_

Frowning, Neymar called him as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. Dani picked up almost immediately.

“Neymar, where are you?”

“In my apartment. What’s up?”

Dani took a deep breath. “Felipe’s here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally, this was supposed to be two chapters, but i'm feeling inspired soooo. also i'm really excited for the next chapter so i can't wait to write it and have you guys read it!


	7. Felipe's Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean. do you really need an apology for me? just know i'm a failure and read the chapter.
> 
> also, since it's been so long, i decided to do a tiny recap for all of you so that you don't have to scroll through all the previous chapters to remember what the plot was. basically, neymar's sister, rafaella, asks him to introduce her to leo, her favourite athlete in college and guy she has a crush on. neymar does so, but leo doesn't take to him as much as he'd expect. ney gets drunk at a party and tells leo about a guy he once dated, felipe. anyway, fastforward, neymar and leo become friends after leo is unexpectedly helpful when rafaella gets into a car accident. they become friends and even go to a football game together and dinner later when neymar finds out felipe's BACK. 
> 
> wow, it's like a soap opera haha. hope you guys enjoy!

“Ney? Neymar? Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” His words were coming out slowly, fumbling through his lips. He waved distractedly at Phil, his roommate, in greeting before moving into his bedroom. He sat heavily down on his bed, his face blank. “Say again? Who’s there?”

“Felipe. Felipe came by, Ney.” At Ney’s continued silence, Dani went on gently, “He just walked in, Ney. I didn’t invite him. He said he’s been having some family trouble—he’ll probably tell you himself. He just wants a place to crash for a few days.”

“Is he staying with you?” Neymar’s voice was timid.

“Yeah, on my couch.”

“Can’t he hear you?”

“No, Ney, I’m standing outside my apartment right now.” Dani paused before rushing on, “I’m sorry, Ney, there was nothing to do.”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine.”

There was a silence and Dani asked quietly, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I… just—it’s kind of a surprise.”

“You don’t have to meet him. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” The words burst out of Neymar, slipping unbidden from his mouth, shocking him just as much as it did Dani, who sputtered briefly.

“ _What_?”

“Yeah,” Neymar said defensively, picking at his sheets. “I want to. What’s wrong with that?”

“Neymar, do you remember what happened the last time you two… Do you remember?” Dani’s voice was sharp.

“Of course I do!” Neymar snapped. “I was the one who was sad, right?” There was a pause and Ney could hear Dani breathing quietly. Embarrassed, Ney made a soft sound. “I’m sorry,” he said, almost whining. “I know—I know it… it affected you too. But I have to see him, Dani.”

“ _Why_?”

“I want to. It’s something I have to do. I have to.”

“Ney,” and here Neymar could clearly see Dani fighting for patience, probably pacing restlessly, “Walk me through this. What could you _possibly_ get out of this?”

“I need to tell him—I have to explain how he... You can’t just leave like that!” Neymar’s voice was rising uncontrollably and he took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I need to tell him he can’t do that to people.”

“What if he has no answers, Ney?” Dani said very gently.

Ney’s fist curled tightly. “Well, it won’t change anything, will it? It’ll just be the same as it was.”

 

* * *

 

The truth was, Felipe had shaken something loose in Neymar. From the very beginning, he had awoken a buried truth in Ney—although Neymar couldn’t still definitively say what. It was more than the new side of his sexuality, more than a newly found attraction to men.

They hadn’t been together too long—a few months at most, but it had always been heated, raw, hypersexual. It had been like a drug. Neymar had never felt anything like that for anyone—a kind of passion that lit him from within.

They had fucked everywhere, anywhere. One time, Ney, hard as a rock, had allowed Felipe to get him off in a movie theatre. Mewling softly into Felipe’s shoulder, Ney had been burningly aware that people were watching but he still hadn’t been able to stop himself.

Felipe’s control over him had bordered on the frightening.

Ney had found himself reaching for his phone like a crazy person, anticipating texts and calls that didn’t come fast enough, or last long enough, or often enough. Felipe had always seemed unreachable in a way that made Neymar crazy.

Towards the end of their relationship, Neymar had become increasingly desperate, clingy, possessive, jealous. He’d tried numerous times to break into Felipe’s phone, something Felipe refused him access. He’d once seen Felipe flirt with a girl at Starbucks and Neymar had stormed out.

But their make-up sex was unlike anything. Sometimes, the bust-ups made the sex even better than usual, Neymar grasping for something even as he fitted his mouth against Felipe’s. He remembered pressing, pressing, _pressing_ against Felipe, as if he could maybe meld them into one and everything would be okay.

But sometimes the anxiety started in the aftermath, even as Neymar was still floating from the post-orgasmic satiation. Little things scared him. Why hadn’t Felipe kissed him during sex? Why had he glanced at his phone so quickly afterward?

It was never enough because Felipe gave him only bits and pieces of himself. Neymar only realized that months after Felipe left, months after the heavy fog lifted.

Felipe left without a word. No explanations. One day, he just stopped answering his phone. Neymar called and called and called. Until Dani told him he’d left.

Irrationally, it was _Dani_ who Neymar hated for months after. It was Dani he blamed. Even though Dani had been the one cleaning Ney’s apartment, forcing him to go to classes, feeding him, he hated Dani. Hating Dani kept the depression at bay.

 

* * *

 

Summer vacation and Rafaella saved Neymar. He went home and let his mother fuss over him. Rafaella, who didn’t know anything about Felipe, forced him out of bed in the mornings and made him take her out.

It happened bit by bit, but one day Neymar woke up, smiling, his heart lighter than it had been for half a year.

He reverted mostly to his normal self, but he avoided men like the plague. He was still mildly attracted to them, but he found it easy to look away and focus on girls. For some reason, his heart never burned the way it did with Felipe—somehow, he was safe with women.

But the questions never went away. How could Felipe just _leave_? Every time he got drunk, it came to his mind. In fact, the only time he’d not thought about Felipe was the last time he got drunk, the time when, in fact, another boy had been in his thoughts.

Messi.

 

* * *

 

Ney had a sleepless night, tossing and turning, mind burning with questions, thoughts, reliving too many moments with Felipe—most of them good. He found himself struggling to remember why he’d been sad, found himself making excuses for why Felipe had left him like that, without a goodbye, without an explanation, without anything.

He finally gave up on the idea of sleep and threw the blanket off, swinging his feet to the floor. He sat like that, his toes curling into the carpet, his hands bracing himself at the edge of the bed, staring at his phone.

He wanted to talk to Messi—wanted to tell him about Felipe. He just wanted to talk to _someone_. He knew Dani would be judgmental and he didn’t want to tell anyone else about it. But he knew he could trust Messi—besides, Leo already knew about Felipe. There was something comforting about Leo: he was small, but he seemed _huge_ in a way Ney couldn’t explain. Big and protective.

He shook his head. It was 5 am and Leo was probably still asleep. He couldn’t possibly wake him up now. For _this_. So Ney trudged to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, took a long bitingly cold shower. It woke him up somewhat; he left the bathroom shivering, teeth chattering. He put on his warmest robe and slipped out of his bedroom, not wanting to wake his roommate.

He puttered around in the kitchen as slowly as he could, making his favourite breakfast: scrambled eggs. By the time he was done eating and cleaning up, a hot cup of coffee in his hand, he saw it was 6:34 am and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Leo picked up on the fourth ring, just when Neymar was going to hang up.

“Whassamater?” Leo mumbled into the phone.

“Hi, did I wake you?” Ney said guiltily, but not guilty enough to hang up.

Leo yawned. “Yeah, but what’s wrong?” Neymar could hear rustling sheets and imagined Leo stretching, moving around in his bed.

“I’m… this can wait, you know.”

“No, tell me,” Leo said around another huge yawn.

Neymar relaxed. That’s what he’d been hoping to hear. “Felipe’s here again. He’s staying with Dani.”

There was a quick beat of silence. “They’re roommates?” Leo asked, a note of confusion in his voice.

“No, no,” Neymar said impatiently. “He came to stay with Dani for a—well, I don’t know for how long. But he’s here, here in the city.”

“Mm. And?”

“And!” Neymar stood, pacing, nervous energy thrumming through his veins. “And… I’m… He’s here, Leo!”

“I’m with you so far.”

“Ha ha. This isn’t funny.”

“Why’re you upset?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like him still?”

“I don’t know.”

Leo let out a long breath and Ney could hear more rustling. “So are you worried that you might still have feelings for him or that meeting him will be hard or that you might get back together?”

“It’s just… It’s just that he left without saying anything. You don’t know what that’s like—he just up and left one day. He left me, Leo. With no explanation. His boyfriend. I was alone. He never called me, never texted, nothing. Now he’s here.”

Leo was silent, but it felt encouraging to Neymar so he plunged on.

“Why did he leave? Why?”

“Maybe you should ask him,” Leo said mildly.

“I want to, but Dani doesn’t think I should.”

“What do you want at the end of all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

Neymar heard water running and wondered if Leo was in the bathroom. “Do you want to get back with him?”

“I don’t know what I want! I just want to talk to him.”

“Then do that.”

For some reason, the answer stunned Neymar. Maybe he’d almost hoped Leo would stop him, would keep him for doing it, but Leo’s easy answer scared Ney to his core. “I… what do _you_ think?”

Leo was quiet. Neymar waited, but then finally pressed on, impatient and slightly confused. “Leo? What do you think?”

Leo’s laugh was soft. “I think you should do what’ll make you feel better. If this is it, then I’ll support your skinny ass.”

Neymar’s laugh was involuntary, slightly hysterical, full of relief. Later, he would understand why he felt the latter two emotions, but at that moment, his head was too full of Felipe.

 

* * *

 

_2 days later_

Often, Neymar had noticed, anticipation was a killer. Building something up to an unsustainable level, until it just couldn’t match up—until it was sure to flop. So when he’d gone into Dani’s house, part of him almost felt that it couldn’t _possibly_ be as bad as the thoughts rattling about in his head—most importantly, Felipe couldn’t be as good-looking as Ney remembered him.

But it seemed anticipation hadn’t done its job this time.

Because Felipe was so handsome that Neymar felt his throat tightening, his pulse throbbing everywhere, even in places he hadn’t expected them to. His face felt so hot, it felt like he couldn’t concentrate.

Felipe hadn’t seen him yet, engaged in conversation with someone else, but when his eyes settled slowly on Neymar, sitting next to Dani on the couch, Ney felt something inside his belly flop. His chest was tight, but he stared back, refusing to back down.

And then Felipe smiled. It was warm, sincere, almost rueful. He was so handsome that it jarred Ney, caught him off-guard. It made Neymar vulnerable in a way he hadn’t expected and, confused, he looked down, not even seeing his own feet, knocked blind.

“Keep your head up. You’re not going to let him see how you feel.” Dani’s hiss next to him brought him out of his confusion and he straightened, looking across the room at where Felipe was. He’d already turned away, laughing with Marcelo about something.

Briefly, Neymar felt something cold slip down his throat—like eating ice-cream on a burning hot day. He forced a smile and turned blindly to the person next him—and was shocked to see it was Leo.

The smile turned sincere and, without even thinking, he leaned lightly into Leo’s side. Leo was sipping from a red solo cup, but his arm came up around Neymar easily, as if he wasn’t even conscious of it. He supported Neymar’s weight effortlessly, then laughed lightly. Neymar realized Messi was still in conversation with Geri who was standing on Messi’s other side, bending his neck forward to whisper in Leo’s ear.

Ney took Leo’s cup and drained it. He wasn’t himself—he was barely registering his own surroundings. He needed to calm down. When he swallowed, ignoring the burning in his chest, he met Leo’s calm eyes.

“All good?”

Neymar nodded. “Will you get me another?”

Leo shook his head. At Ney’s protesting expression, Leo squeezed Neymar closer, hushing him. “Just be quiet for a bit.”

“Do you want to see him?”

“If you want to show me.”

“He’s the one in black. Tall. Across the room. Talking to Marcelo.”

Leo was subtle, letting his gaze move so slowly, eyes lazy; no one could possibly guess that he was searching. He glanced down after looking around, reaching for a chip and stuffing it into his mouth.

Neymar had no patience for this. “Well?”

Leo shrugged.

Irritated, Neymar extricated himself from Leo. Leo raised his head, meeting Neymar’s gaze, a question in his dark eyes. “I’m going to say hi.” He felt suddenly reckless, anger draining his anxiety.

Leo said nothing, just inclined his head and reached for another chip. Even more irritated by Leo’s continued reticence, Neymar walked off without a backwards glance. He moved purposefully towards Felipe, his mind full of Leo.

In fact, he was so irritated that when he finally reached Felipe, he could only manage a smile and a nod. Felipe’s smile, on the other hand, was warm and wide, faltering slightly at Neymar’s closed expression.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How are you?” he asked very softly—and suddenly Neymar remembered his voice. It was as sexy as it used to be, dark and husky, rumbling gently down Ney’s spine.

Ney swallowed, finally feeling the nerves a little. “Good. You? Haven’t seen you in a while. Since you left my apartment that morning.” It was petty, but he couldn’t help it.

Felipe’s eyes were serious. “I want to talk to you about that. Do you think, maybe, we can ditch this place and go somewhere to talk?”

Neymar hesitated. Then, he nodded. “I just have to do something first. Meet you at the door in ten minutes?”

Felipe’s smile was melting and, heart fluttering, Neymar turned back. He fought his way through the crowd, excitement rippling in his belly. “Hey, I’m gonna go out with Felipe,” he said, pointing a thumb behind him. He was addressing both Dani and Leo, but he avoided Dani’s eyes.

“Neymar—”

Leo’s hand landed lightly on Dani’s thigh, cutting him off. “Be safe,” he said very quietly, so quietly that Neymar almost couldn’t hear him, so that Ney’s eyes dropped to his lips to do some lipreading over the party din.

Neymar hesitated. He suddenly didn’t want to go, suddenly wished he could stay here, between Dani and Leo. But then he thought of Felipe and his heart skipped a beat. “Can I call you later?” he asked Leo.

Dani stood up at that and walked off. Ney’s mouth parted with dismay and he made to follow. Leo caught his arm. “I’ll handle him. You go.”

Ney chewed on the inside of his mouth. “Are you sure?”

Leo stood, brushing crumbs off his sweater, then running a hand through his hair. His smile was slight. “Yes. Go, Neymar.”

And, without a backward glance, for the second time that night, Neymar walked away from Leo.

 

* * *

 

When Felipe opened the car door for him, his fingers brushing Neymar’s by accident, Ney shivered in response. He sat, allowing Felipe to close the door and move around the car to the driver’s seat. He swallowed. The attraction was still there between them, hot and pulsing and ready to tear Neymar apart.

Ney wasn’t his usually voluble self on the way to the coffee shop. Felipe asked him a few banal questions about his work and Neymar simply replied in short responses, not willing to prolong the exchange. When they got to the small coffee shop, Ney got out before Felipe could get there.

He smiled as he straightened, closing the door behind him, leaning on the car a little. Felipe had already circled the car and was standing in front of him. He was so _handsome_.

“You look great,” Felipe murmured.

“You too,” Neymar replied faintly. The curve of Felipe’s mouth distracted him—those lips had explored every inch of Neymar’s body.

Felipe gestured at the door and Neymar walked, slightly blindly, into the dimly lit coffee shop. They chose a booth at the very corner, so private that most of the customers wouldn’t have been able to see them. It was shaped into a semi-circle so that it was continuous on one side, and open on the other end.

Neymar picked up the menu with interest—he was _starving_. For a while, they murmured about food, then the waitress appeared. She was very attractive and staring at Felipe with marked interest.

Neymar was forcibly reminded of all the days that people had looked at Felipe, his boyfriend. How it had made him insecure not proud, how jealous he’d been.

He watched Felipe carefully. “Hi, doll,” he said lightly, looking up at the waitress from the corner of his eyes.

Neymar glanced at the waitress’ name tag and saw it was clearly visible: _Heather_. He looked down, feeling uncomfortable, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what had bothered him.

“Can we get two cappuccinos, a croissant and a blueberry muffin?”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes—"

Neymar opened his mouth. “Actually, I wanted—”

Felipe turned his eyes on Neymar and Neymar froze. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I want a slice of the chocolate cake, please.”

The waitress smiled at him. “A la mode?”

Neymar nodded. It sounded _delicious_. “Two scoops, please.”

She recounted the order for them, her gaze lingering on Felipe before leaving. Felipe’s eyes moved slowly over Neymar’s face. “Two scoops?” he said, laughing.

Neymar grinned. “I was hungry.”

“Sorry, by the way. I’d forgotten to ask—was cappuccino okay?”

Neymar nodded. He’d wanted a latte, but it was fine, really. They almost tasted the same, right? He wasn’t really here for the coffee, anyway.

“So—”

“I wanted to—”

They both laughed self-consciously, gesturing at the other to finish. When Felipe insisted, Neymar plunged on. Later, he would acknowledge that was a mistake.

“I just want to know—why you thought it was okay to leave like that.” He could feel his cheeks getting flushed with emotion and clenched his fists in his lap to control himself.

Felipe looked troubled. He sighed, rubbing his hand with his hand. “I don’t… I don’t have an answer, Neymar. I was an ass.”

Neymar had nothing to say and stayed silent.

Felipe went on. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. I should have talked to you. But I was selfish. An asshole. And we fought _so much_. I thought it would be another fight. I was tired.”

Neymar bowed his head, finding it impossible to keep looking at Felipe. “You—do you even know—it wasn’t right.”

Felipe raised his palms. “I know. Believe me, I know. But I mean, I wasn’t myself. I’m sorry. You deserved better.”

Neymar fiddled with the napkin, feeling upset. “ _Why_ did you leave?”

“We were fighting so much. It was exhausting. I didn’t want to make you cry anymore. You cried all the time.”

Neymar felt regret lap at him. It was something he’d been embarrassed about always. Something he’d thought of a lot: whether his tears, whether his clinginess had driven Felipe away. _Why_ had he done that?

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was too emotional, too sensitive.”

Felipe agreed readily. “You were. You loved me a lot, I guess. It’s okay,” he said kindly, patting Neymar’s hand.

Electricity fluttered through Neymar at the touch. But he was still embarrassed. “I did love you.”

“I know,” Felipe said softly, his eyes glittering. “I know you did. Believe me, I cared for you too.”

For some reason, Neymar felt crying. He was saved by the waitress arriving. She placed Neymar’s chocolate cake in front of him along with the ice cream. He felt his mood lifting—it looked so _good_.

He dug a spoon into his cake and put his tongue, closing his eyes in bliss at the taste.

“Good?” Felipe asked, amused.

Neymar opened his mouth, grinning. “Very. Want to try?” He pushed his plate to Felipe, secretly not wanting to share. It was just so _good_.

Felipe took a big bite and then moaned a little. “ _Man_ , that is good.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Neymar hesitated, then pushed the plate towards Felipe. “Have more.”

“Are you sure?”

Ney nodded. “We can share.” Something about watching the enthusiastic way Felipe dug into his cake made Neymar inexpressibly happy. Even if it meant no chocolate cake.

Only later did he realise that the only bite he’d gotten was that first bite.

 

* * *

 

The cake put Felipe in a very good mood. He joked and laughed a lot on the ride home. They took the long way back, blasting music, singing at the top of their lungs. Felipe talked a lot—he could outdo even Neymar and he was always fun.

One joke left Neymar in tears, clutching his stomach, unable to breathe. When he finally calmed down and looked over at Felipe, his breath caught. Felipe was staring at him as if mesmerized, then a slow smile spread over his face.

That was the moment that Neymar realized it wasn’t over between them, not even close.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence and when they arrived at Neymar’s place, he wasn’t surprised to see that Felipe killed the engine and parked. They walked inside, Neymar pressing the button for the elevator.

“You don’t have to come up,” Ney said again. He was feeling slightly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t explain why.

“I’ll just see you to the door, make sure you’re safe.”

Neymar rolled his eyes at that, but felt his insides warm a little. Felipe had always been like this—always made sure Neymar was safe and okay. They rode up quietly, leaning on opposite ends of the elevator. When their eyes caught briefly, Felipe’s smile was slow and intimate.

Neymar felt it as if it was in his veins.

They moved to his door and Neymar unlocked it with the keys from his pocket. It took him a couple of tries to get it right, but finally, he managed. He stood at the threshold, hesitating, and turned back to Felipe.

“Well, good night.”

“Good night,” Felipe replied softly, his answer just a second too late, infusing the atmosphere with tension. He leaned closer and Neymar realized he was going in for a hug. He allowed Felipe to envelope him and he stumbled a little.

Felipe smelled as he always had, the cologne bringing both a familiar and unfamiliar ease. Neymar’s nose was squashed a little against Felipe’s chest, but he burrowed deeper, wanting to feel the safety of this. Felipe responded by hugging him tighter. They stood like that for a second, maybe longer, before Neymar pulled back.

Felipe leaned in again, kissing Neymar lightly on the cheek. When he moved back, his arms still around Neymar, it was Ney who stood on his tiptoes. It was Neymar who guided his lips against Neymar’s.

It was Neymar who kissed him, but it was Felipe who deepened it. They kissed for hardly ten seconds, but when it was over, Felipe brushed his lips over Neymar’s forehead.

“Go inside and shut the door.”

Neymar went, closing the door on Felipe’s face.

 

* * *

 

Neymar sat on his bed, feeling a mix of excitement, happiness and anxiety. He knew Dani would be upset with him, but that wasn’t it—he wondered what Leo would think. The truth is, Leo hadn’t once told Neymar how he felt about the whole situation.

As if he’d known Ney was thinking about it, a text from Leo vibrated Neymar’s phone.

_Home yet?_

Ney hesitated, then started typing.

_Yeah, it went well. What’s up?_

_Still want to call me?_

_I’m kinda tired tbh. Okay if I take a rain check?_

_Of course good night_

Neymar bit his lip, feeling inexpressibly sad for no reason, then replied.

_Good night._

He stripped his shirt off, sliding his jeans down his legs and stepping out of them. He burrowed under the covers in his boxers, shivering slightly. He unlocked his phone with his thumbprint and stared at the conversation with Messi. Then he typed again.

_I missed you tonight_

Leo’s reply came in a couple of minutes.

_Shut up and sleep_

That made Neymar grin. And, rolling over, he slept soundly, untroubled by dreams.


	8. Boyfriends and Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is a bit late, but um... better late than never?
> 
> also i wanted to say that i noticed the subscribers to this story have more than doubled in recent months and that's craaazy to me. i appreciate knowing people are reading this, silent or not. so thank you mucho mucho!

Neymar couldn’t really specify how Felipe became his boyfriend, or even _when_ it happened. It was unspoken, a gradual thing. It just seemed to be _understood._ When Felipe started referring to Neymar as his boyfriend two weeks into this, Ney was startled. But he didn’t question it, just shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling that no one had _asked._ Because he would have said yes, anyway, right? So what did it matter?

Felipe began to come over more and more often. When Ney suggested going over to Dani’s place, where Felipe was staying, he became uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging.

Ney felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, his face casual. “Dani not so happy with us?”

Felipe smiled his rueful, charming smile. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked very softly, coming close to kiss Neymar, his lips gently grazing against Neymar’s.

Neymar shook his head no, though he was upset. But he remained calm outwardly, unwilling to show any distress to Felipe. More and more, he was squashing down his feelings—the _fear_ of appearing sensitive made him go the other way—until he didn’t know what he _should_ be upset about and what he shouldn’t. So he just never talked about it at all, never complained, never said anything. Never threw tantrums.

Once, when they were lounging on the couch watching Netflix, Felipe suddenly chuckled. When Ney looked over, already smiling in anticipation of the joke, Felipe shook his head, “Nothing.”

“Come on, tell me.” Neymar poked his toes into Felipe’s side, smiling.

Felipe grinned. “Well, I guess it’s okay to tell you. It’s just that you’re so different now. You never get upset like you used to before.”

Neymar felt himself freeze a little, but kept smiling. “What do you mean?”

“Well, like today.” He gestured his hand vaguely. Felipe had come over two hours later than he’d said he was coming; he hadn’t sent any texts or calls beforehand to explain, and when he came in, he just murmured a breezy apology. “The old Ney would have been so mad. But the new Ney is so chill. I love it. I don’t have to worry at all.”

Neymar forced a smile, but felt a chill inside. The truth is, he _had_ been irritated about it—he hadn’t liked it at all, but he’d kept his mouth shut. He was so _afraid_ of being called hysterical—and, anyway, what was a couple of hours? Did it really matter in the grand scheme of things?

Felipe moved closer. “Sor- _ry_. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” His voice was sing-song. He snuffled into Neymar’s shoulder. Neymar allowed himself to be gently manhandled, pulled into Felipe’s lap. He cuddled closer, feeling better already. “I just like that you’re so cool now.” Felipe whispered this gently against Neymar’s lips between kisses.

Neymar didn’t want to hear anymore. This conversation wasn’t… _it needed to end_. So he pressed his lips against Felipe, determined to distract him.

Of course, the heat was always between them. Neymar was hard in seconds—and god, Felipe was a fantastic kisser. He made Neymar’s spine melt, made him shiver. Within a few seconds, Neymar had forgotten it all.

 

* * *

 

Neymar went home over the winter break alone—and felt strangely relieved. He told Felipe he might be too busy over Christmas to talk or message much and Felipe shrugged, telling him to enjoy himself.

The truth was, Neymar _could_ have made time. He just didn’t want to. He needed to be alone for a while. He was feeling… overwhelmed. The end of the semester was in a month or so and he needed to get back to studying.

He hadn’t been able to spend time with any of his friends. All his days had been filled with Felipe. He spent the bulk of his time turning the pages of his textbook in the library without actually reading anything, his mind blank and distracted. And when he came back to the apartment, Felipe was usually there.

He’d been uncomfortable with giving Felipe a key, but when Felipe explained how difficult Dani was being, Neymar gave in. He needed to speak to Dani, but he was avoiding a confrontation. And he missed Marcelo—the latter had found a new “study partner”, a very pretty girl in their class. Neymar noted dryly that they spent more time “studying” her dorm room than anything else.

And he missed Leo. He tried not to think about him much, but he was aware that they hadn’t seen each other in weeks now. They still texted, but the conversations were short and spaced far apart. Leo hadn’t called him in a while now and he missed those tiny weird calls now.

He desperately wanted to see him, but there was just _no_ time. Felipe took all of his free time. And Felipe didn’t like him on the phone much, understandably. In fact, Neymar noticed, Felipe was far more irritable these days—he frequently snapped at Ney who attributed it to stress about his family and remained calm.

He tried to talk to Felipe about his “family emergency”, but Felipe refused to discuss it. He insisted that he felt uncomfortable—and that _word_ always made Neymar back off. He didn’t want to make Felipe uncomfortable ever, not ever.

Besides, he could understand. Some things were private, weren’t they? It troubled him that Felipe wouldn’t share, but he got it.

But it was so comforting to come home to Felipe every day. He always had a hot meal ready, always cleaned the apartment so well that even Neymar’s roommate, Phil, had taken to him. Felipe was a fantastic cook, as well, and Neymar started gaining weight.

Besides, Felipe was very kind to Neymar. Every night, he tenderly took care of Ney, sometimes massaging his feet, bringing him a warm robe to the bathroom after his shower so he could be wrapped in heat. He made all his favourite meals and woke him every morning with a hot cup of coffee and bacon.

Also, when he was in a good mood, Felipe was fantastic company. He could make Neymar laugh and laugh, keeping him in stitches. He was also very physical, his hands always on Neymar, cuddling and kissing him. It made Neymar feel safe—and loved.

And it was so nice to have company on the cold winter nights, nice to wake up with someone cuddling him in the morning, nice to feel like he wasn’t alone.

It was nice—really, it was.

 

* * *

 

The first day Neymar was back home, he slept for 16 hours, and then woke to take Rafaella last-minute Christmas shopping, deliberately leaving his phone under his pillow in his bedroom. After she bought gifts for four of her “dearest” friends (who she hadn’t spared a thought until the week before Christmas), Neymar bought her a coffee and took her home.

They hadn’t decorated the tree or the house until he’d come home. He hated decorating the tree, but his family loved doing it together so he jumped in with full Christmas spirit. He entertained them with his Christmas carols until they all begged him to either stop or get them more eggnog so they could tolerate the “music” better.

The eggnog flowed—and Neymar felt warm and happy as the tree started to take shape. There were a few screaming matches, a few broken ornaments, but at the end of the night, around midnight, everything was done.

Neymar’s mother lay on the carpet, tired. He lay down next to her, slipping his hand into her. She smiled, moving in a little closer to cuddle. She closed her eyes, then whispered, “How are you?”

Neymar felt his throat tightening up and had no idea why. “I’m good.”

“Promise?”

Swallowing hard, determined not to cry, Neymar smiled. “Promise.”

He _was_ good, he was. Why wouldn’t he be?

Rafaella interrupted his thoughts, coming to stand over the two of them, hands on hips. “Look at these lazy bums! While we have to clean everything up, you two are just sitting there, sharing secrets.”

Neymar grinned. “We’re old, we need rest.”

Neymar’s father snorted from the kitchen. “And what about me?”

“You look younger than me, dad! Aren’t you twenty-five?” Neymar called back.

Rafaella rolled her eyes. “You really are old, you know that,” she said, pointing a finger at Ney. “You’re starting to make Dad jokes.”

That made Neymar’s mother burst into laughter. Ney could even hear his father guffawing from the kitchen. Sputtering, he sat. “No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do. What was all that nonsense with the cashier today?”

“That was funny!”

“Making an accidental pun and then calling it ‘punny’ isn’t funny at all.”

“She laughed!”

“She probably felt sorry for you,” Rafaella informed him, turning back to continue sweeping up the broken ornaments.

“Mom!” He turned to his mother for help, but saw she was laughing too.

“You’re all very cruel.” But he flopped back down, leaning his head on his mother’s shoulder.

And, in a few minutes, was fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

Someone shook his shoulder and sent him to bed. He trudged upstairs, yawning. It was at his door that he remembered his phone and felt his heart beating a little faster in anticipation. When he pressed his thumbprint to his phone and pulled down the notifications, he saw messages and a Snap from Leo, along with ones from Felipe and Marcelo.

Without hesitation, he opened Felipe’s first. He had Snapped Neymar some cheesecake, and Ney grinned, plopping down. The next Snap was a video of Felipe taking a bite and sticking his tongue out at the camera. Neymar laughed softly—everyone knew how much he loved cheesecake.

He sent a quick Snap of himself with a sad face back, and then meandered over to the Snapchat Stories. He watched Felipe hanging out with his friends in a few boring Snaps, then paused at the last one. It was Felipe eating cheesecake, his arm around a pretty girl sitting next to him.

Neymar sat for a moment in silence, feeling the overwhelming jealousy eat at him. He felt his eyes prickling, his throat tightening. Anxious to avoid a cry, he immediately opened up Leo’s Snaps. Instantly, his screen was filled with Leo’s face, scrunched up in concentration.

“Okay, I think this is on.” His forehead puckered again, squinting at his own screen. “Hey, asshole.” He smiled, all dimples, his eyes crinkling up. Neymar found himself smiling back, the leaden ball in his stomach easing a little.

“So I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. But the weirdest thing happened to me. I had gone to Geri’s place and when I was driving home, I got stopped by a cop. She asked me for ID and when I gave it to her, she gave me _her_ ID. I was so confused I didn’t know what to do.”

Neymar began to laugh, knowing where this was going. “So,” Leo continued. “I gave it back to her, but she insisted on me holding it while she went back to her car. I was really scared that I’d lose it or drop it and she’d take me to jail for losing it so I was holding it really tightly in my hand.”

Neymar felt the tears beginning to form in his eyes from laughter, bending over to clutch his stomach. “And then when she came back, I asked her if everything was okay. And she leaned really close and was like _do_ you _have anything to say to me **?**_ And I was like _uh… no_. And after a second, she grabbed her ID and then she started shaking it in my face. And I was so confused and finally she got really angry and put her ID back in her pocket and gave me a warning and told me to leave. She said the next time she would fine me. I asked her what I did to get a warning and she started shouting. She was like _just go_! Anyway, what was that all about?”

With that, Leo shook his head and ended the Snap.

Neymar, still laughing uncontrollably, immediately called Leo.

“Hey, Ney—what? Why’re you laughing?”

“You… your snap…” Neymar choked out, tears squeezing out of his eyes.

“So? What’s so funny?”

“She was… asking… you… out!” Neymar wheezed.

“No, she wasn’t, she—” And Leo’s voice came to an abrupt halt. And then, on the end, Neymar heard a long groan.

That made him laugh even harder.

“Well, why didn’t she just _say_ she liked me?”

“You thought you were going to go to jail!”

“Stop laughing, you fucker. I didn’t know! That’s the dumbest way to ask a dude out!” Leo protested over Neymar’s giggles.

“I can’t believe you’re calling her dumb when… when…” and Neymar fell apart again, laughing and laughing until his side hurt.

When he’d finally calmed down, he listened to the huffy silence for a moment, grinning broadly. “Hey, Messi.”

“What?” Leo grumbled.

And, suddenly, just like that, Neymar sobered. “There was a girl in his snap.’

“What? Whose?”

“His. _His_.”

“What do you mean? Was it inappropriate?”

“No. No.” Neymar hesitated. “He had his arm around her.” He felt foolish now, listening to himself, foolish for being upset over something so small.

“And?”

“And—that’s it! I know, it’s dumb, okay? I just can’t help it.” His voice was rising and he’d slipped from his bed, pacing without even knowing it. He forced himself to stop, his hand fisting by his side.

“It’s not dumb.” Leo’s voice was quiet, assured, and it strengthened Neymar. “But… why do you feel threatened? Do you think he doesn’t love you?”

Neymar laughed. He felt like he was floundering. Trust Messi to get at the bottom of it so quickly. “We’ve only been dating for two months.”

“But you love him.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Ney heard the rising inflection anyway and knew it was a query.

“I don’t know what I feel. It’s so confusing.” Neymar drifted off, hoping Leo would swoop in and change the subject, but Leo was dead silent. Finally, he continued. “It’s just… I can’t trust him. Ever.”

Neymar began to pace, the words surprising him. He hadn’t even known his own mind. “He betrayed me, he lied to me. He took it away from me.”

“Took what away from you?” Leo asked very softly.

Ney’s eyes filled with tears, his throat tightening. “My… trust,” he whispered. “I don’t have it anymore. Not for him, not for anyone.”

Leo was quiet for so long that Neymar flushed wildly, embarrassed and humiliated. _What_ was he blathering on about? And why with Leo, of all people? They had been friends for only for a few months.

“I’m sorry,” he said into the silence. He laughed, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’ll just hang up, let’s just forget I ever said this—”

“No. No, one second. Can you do me a favour?”

Ney nodded, forgetting he was on the phone. But Leo continued as if he could see Neymar.

“Can you sit down? And take a deep breath? Just sit down, close your eyes, and take five deep breaths.” Leo’s voice was calm and confident. It vibrated gently into Neymar’s ear, lulling him.

He sat, eyes drifting closed. He breathed in slowly, each successive breath deeper and more cleansing than the previous one. Leo had told him to take 5 breaths, but he continued even after that. Leo seemed content to wait and didn’t interrupt for a few minutes.

“Okay. Okay. I’m okay.”

“You’re not.” Leo laughed gently. “But you’re better.”

“Okay, I’m better.”

Leo’s laugh was soft and comforting. “You need to say this to him, you know?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“That day, that day when we left the party? I told him he’d hurt me.”

“Did he apologise?”

“Of cou—” and then Neymar paused. _Had_ Felipe apologized? He hadn’t said _sorry_ , but his tone had been apologetic, hadn’t it? Did it matter if he didn’t say the word? He’d expressed regret. That was the same, right?

“Ney?”

“Yeah, yeah, he did.”

“Good,” Leo said firmly and Neymar felt suddenly ashamed. The thing was, Leo was so clean, he was so… _pure_ in a way. He never played with you, he never manipulated you. He was always himself, he was always straight with you. And Neymar wished he hadn’t had to lie, but it wasn’t a lie, was it? Felipe _had_ apologized in his own way.

“—trust isn’t born in a day.” Leo was still talking and Neymar forced himself to focus. “If you want to try to start over again, you’ll have to deal with that, anyway.”

“Deal with what?”

Leo let out an exasperated breath. “Deal with not being able to trust him.”

“Yeah, but should I be going out with someone who I don’t trust?”

“That’s for you to answer, not me.”

Neymar felt deflated by the answer. He’d wanted Leo to reassure him, to say of _course_ it was okay, that trust could be rebuilt, that Neymar was right. Upset, he kept silent, waiting for Leo to keep talking.

“Ney?” Leo said gently.

“What?”

“It’s okay, you know? It’s okay. Whatever happens. It’s okay.”

And, just like that, Neymar smiled. “Are you saying you’ll take care of me if anything goes wrong?” he asked in a sing-song voice, drawing out the syllables.

“No.”

“Yeeees,” Neymar sang loudly, “that’s what you’re saaaaaying.”

“Shut up.”

“You love meeeeee.”

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks to shut up.”

“You think I won’t take the money, but I actually will.”

“Well, I’ll actually give it to you if you shut up.”

“Well, then, you owe me a hundred next time we meet.”

“Deal,” Leo said around a huge yawn.

“It’s 10 and a holiday, not to mention a weekend. Are you a grandpa?”

“Hey, I’ve been up since 5.” Leo’s voice had gotten muffled as if his mouth had moved away from the phone.

Horrified, Neymar asked, “What on _earth_ for?”

“Gym.”

Ney shuddered. “Yuck. _Yuck_. Ew. Gross.”

“You done?”

“Are you trying to end this conversation?”

“Yes, asshole. Can I sleep now?”

“ _May_ I.”

“You may.”

Neymar laughed at the smirk he heard in Leo’s voice. “You think you’re funny, don’t you? Alright, alright, go sleep before you get cranky.”

“Alright, night, asshole.”

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

And before Leo could reply, Neymar hung up, grinning broadly. He switched his laptop on to watch a show, but could hardly concentrate, the conversation with Leo running through his mind. He fell asleep like that, and dreamed of Leo, and, when he woke up, Leo was the first person he thought of.

 

* * *

 

As the days slipped by, Neymar felt a looming dread at the thought of going back to college. At first, he couldn’t understand why there was a pit of anxiety in his stomach. He had to rack his brains to think about it, until he realised he was nervous about facing Felipe.

Since seeing Felipe’s Snap, he’d been a little distant with Felipe. It wasn’t that they _weren’t_ talking, of course. It was just a few messages in the morning or at night, a couple of Snaps to maintain their streak. They liked and commented on each other’s Instagram posts, but there was no real conversation.

Neymar didn’t mind, although he did miss Felipe, especially at night. He liked their physical closeness, liked having someone to keep him company all the time. But, in a way, it was nice to get some space—to have his family around, to be alone with his thoughts and just _be_.

He hadn’t been able to talk to Leo much either. Their schedules were different: Leo was up early and went to bed on time, while Neymar woke at 2 pm and slept at 4 am. He missed him too; he wished Leo was better on social media, but Leo couldn’t even manage a Snap Streak. The longest he’d kept one was 3 days.

But Neymar felt strangely at peace. He kept his phone in his bedroom for most of the day and spent all day with Rafaella, watching movies, going on walks in the park while she squealed over babies and puppies. He even once drove her and her friends to the mall and was baffled when one of her friends flirted so outrageously that she laid her hand high on his inner thigh. He’d almost crashed the car.

After that, he refused to meet any of her friends, though Rafaella found the story hilarious and burst into peals of laughter whenever she texted that friend, reminded over and over again of Neymar’s panicked expression.

Despite this tiny mishap, Neymar found himself incredibly sad on the eve of his return to college. He was so upset, in fact, that his mother sought him out as he stood on the front porch by himself, shivering in a thin T-shirt.

“You’re going to freeze,” she scolded, handing him his coat and a hat.

Grinnning, he put them on dutifully, while she watched him closely. “Hands in your pockets, or you’ll get frostbite.”

He rolled his eyes but did as she said, stuffing his chilled fingers into the warm insides of his jacket. “Happy?”

She linked their arms together, leaning on him. “Are you?”

Her soft, earnest question caught him off-guard and he froze, dropping his eyes. “Of course!” he said cheerfully, looking into the street, knowing she was watching him carefully.

“Ney.”

What was it about mothers that caught you out? He looked down at her, smiling ruefully, affectionately. He kissed her lightly on her forehead. “I am, mama.”

“Sometimes, Ney,” she said quietly, meeting his eyes squarely, “sometimes we do things we think are making us happy, but they aren’t. Not really. We should always follow our heart. Not our mind.”

Confused, wondering if she could read his mind, wondering if she knew something he didn’t, he searched her face. “What do you—”

“Sssh.” She snuggled closer, burying her face against his arm. “Just be happy, darling. You’re happy, right?” Her voice was wavering.

Immediately, he lifted his arms around her, bundling her closer. He pressed her tightly against him. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” She let out a watery laugh. “Mothers will always win this one.”

He laughed and held her closer still. “You’re right.”

 

* * *

 

Neymar settled into the rhythm of college life easily enough. He was scrambling to study for his exams and almost all of his time was spent in class and in the library. He came home only when the library closed, sometimes past midnight, trudging in the snow to his little apartment.

Often, Felipe was already asleep by the time he came home. Sometimes, he stirred awake as Neymar fell into bed next to him, but usually he slept deeply and didn’t wake. Neymar always held his breath, moving as stealthily as he could, hoping against hope he wouldn’t get up.

The truth was, he wasn’t just trying to study as hard as he could, he was also avoiding Felipe. The problem was the sex.

Or lack thereof.

The thing was, Neymar hadn’t actually planned to avoid having sex with Felipe. He wanted Felipe, of course he did. He’d always been attracted to Felipe and the sex had always been good before so why avoid it now? But initially he’d just needed time, had wanted to settle into being a couple before having sex. And then, for some reason, he needed more and more and more time.

Filipe had been very understanding. At first. He’d backed off, he’d been gentle, content to simply kiss Neymar, to allow him to sleep, nodding when Neymar pleaded exhaustion. In fact, he’d been tender and kind, snuggling and spooning Ney to sleep right away.

But slowly it morphed into gentle jokes. Ney didn’t mind that either. It was just guy jokes, the usual _blue balls_ type of humour. Neymar laughed along willingly, grinning when Felipe teased about his ‘informal’ vows of celibacy.

He didn’t know when exactly the jokes started turning dark. It was almost imperceptible at first. It was the sort of joke that made Neymar slightly uncomfortable, where his smile faltered a little but not enough to start a discussion. Not enough to start off a fight.

But it had set off a fear of Felipe’s company. A kind of dread. Neymar had always hated confrontation and he preferred to stay at the library until he was sure Felipe was fast asleep. He even napped at the library instead of coming home, and, in the morning, he sometimes woke up so early, Felipe hadn’t gotten up yet.

The ironic thing was, of course, that he probably would have had sex with Felipe earlier if it wasn’t for this. But the more Felipe joked, the less Neymar wanted to fuck him. He could get hard by himself in the shower, often finishing himself without a care in the world, but when Felipe kissed him, it was as if his dick had died.

All the stress affected him. He lost his holiday weight, was unable to concentrate, daydreamed in his classes. When his T.A. yelled at him one day, he knew it was time to straighten up. He marched to the library, determined to study really hard and walked smack into Marcelo.

“You asshole! I knew you would be here!” Marcelo was shouting into his ear and Neymar winced, trying and failing to push him off. Marcelo had him in a bear hug and now Ney was choking on mouthfuls of hair on top of being permanently deaf in one ear.

Finally, he pushed him off. “Jesus,” he said, rubbing his side, and smiling apologetically at the pretty librarian. “You’re going to get me kicked out!” he hissed at Marcelo.

Marcelo grinned broadly at him, unperturbed. He picked up Neymar’s fallen textbooks, looping an arm around him. “How you been, ugly?”

“Fine. Where _you_ been, anyway? Done with your study partner?” He slanted a sly glance at Marcelo and they grinned at each other.

“Yeah. Got a new one now.” He winked and Neymar chuckled, half-jealous.

“Lucky bastard. Who?”

“You know that lab assistant? Emily?”

Neymar frowned in memory, then groaned. “No! You bastard. She’s so _hot_.”

Marcelo looked very smug. “She is.”

“And she likes you? Jesus, she must have been breathing in too many of those lab fumes.”

“Have you seen your own face, ugly? You’ve got black circles like a goddamn junkie. And don’t even get me started on how skinny you are.”

Neymar rubbed his face, self-conscious. “I’ve just been tired,” he said defensively.

“Trust me, the whole world can tell. Felipe keeping you up at night, eh?” Marcelo asked suggestively.

It took all of Neymar’s effort to smile, but he knew it wasn’t convincing at Marcelo’s expression. Hurriedly, he changed the topic. “How come you’re here, huh? Need some tutoring?” He grinned. Marcelo was a brilliant student—if anything, it was Neymar who needed the tutoring.

Marcelo smiled comfortably, dropping Neymar’s books at his favourite study table in the corner. He slid them over to Ney, the books whooshing to stop in front of him. “Nah, but there’s a party at my place this weekend. Why don’t you come?”

“I don’t know—”

“Oh, shut up. Just come. Why haven’t you been coming all these weekends, by the way?”

“What weekends?”

“Like last week. At Dani’s place.”

Neymar felt the ice sliding down his throat. “Was there a party?” he asked casually, adjusting his books mindlessly.

“You didn’t know? Where you been, man? Come to earth.”

Ney forced a laugh. “Just been studying, man. Maybe I missed the invite.” But he knew the truth. There had been no invite. He looked down, troubled. He hadn’t thought about why Dani hadn’t been calling him over, but now he realised it had been his weeks since the last time they had spoken, weeks since Dani had invited him over. Dani was forever throwing parties—why hadn’t Neymar realised something was wrong?

“Well, promise you’ll come this weekend?”

Neymar hesitated. “I got a lot of studying to do—”

“Fuck off. If you don’t come, you aren’t my friend anymore.”

Neymar smiled slightly. “Well, it’s not like I’m gonna say no now, right?”

 

* * *

 

Neymar was strangely nervous when he walked into Marcelo’s place with Felipe by his side. He hadn’t hung out with the jocks in ages and, more than that, he couldn’t get Dani out of his mind. The more he’d thought about it, the worse he’d felt. He’d picked up his phone a few times, determined to call him and hash it out, but each time, he’d put it down.

He hoped Dani was here tonight. Face-to-face, they could talk it out. They could make up. Right? His heart thumping, he took Felipe’s coat and went to one of the empty bedrooms, dumping both their coats on an empty bed. When he went back to the living room, he squinted, looking for Felipe.

He spied him across the room, helping himself to a drink. He looked around again and then let out a yelp. Leo was leaning on the opposite wall, his gaze on Neymar’s, a smile playing on his lips. Without thinking, Neymar started pushing his way through the crowd.

Leo straightened as Ney moved closer, his eyes soft, and when Neymar was finally at arm’s length, he launched himself at Leo. Leo laughed gently into his ear, wrapping his arms around Neymar, staggering gently back against the wall, lifting him slightly off his feet.

“I missed you,” Ney whispered into Leo’s hair, tightening his arms around Leo’s neck.

Leo held him like that for a few moments longer until Neymar became aware of the titters. He leaned back, embarrassed, pushing on Leo’s shoulders. Leo let him slide down slowly, unwrapping him gently. It was strangely intimate, Leo leaning against the wall, legs spread apart and Neymar leaning against him, between his thighs.

He stepped back, blushing, aware of people hooting a little. He hadn’t meant to make a scene like that, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t seen Leo in _weeks_ and he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

Breathless, he smiled at Leo, whose eyes were very warm. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

They smiled at each other like idiots and Ney reached out blindly. He slipped into his fingers into Leo’s and Leo let him. Neymar couldn’t seem to stop himself. He had to touch Leo, had to be close to him, had to stay by his side.

He hadn’t even realised how much he’d missed Leo until now. “How’re you?” Leo asked.

“I’m perfect.” The _now_ was unsaid, but perhaps Leo understood because his smile deepened a little, his lashes dropping just a smidge.

“Well, well, well, aren’t you two cozy?”

Neymar whirled, the atmosphere broken. Dani was standing about a foot away, swirling a red cup before he downed it. Ney swallowed. “Hey, Dani. Long time no see.”

Dani’s eyes were very cool. He nodded and turned away, but Neymar started after him, expecting Leo to drop his fingers. But Leo followed and Ney allowed it. He chased Dani for a bit, still hand-in-hand with Leo until they all ended up in the deserted kitchen.

“Dani?”

Dani turned, his eyes flinty. His eyes fell on their hands and Neymar flushed wildly. He immediately disengaged, suddenly ashamed. He didn’t dare meet Leo’s eyes, but he could feel his heavy gaze.

“Dani, are you mad at me?” he asked in a small voice.

Dani’s answering laugh was harsh and hurt Neymar. “Dani,” he mocked, his voice squeaky, “are you mad at me?”

Neymar could feel his throat tightening. “Dani—”

“The fuck do you want, Ney?”

“Why are you mad, Dani? What did I do?” His voice kept dropping, ending on a whisper.

Dani kept laughing and Neymar cringed, feeling humiliated. Leo was silent next to him, but he could feel tension emanating from him. He wondered who Leo would side and then knew that, of _course_ , he would side with Dani. They’d been friends longer, hadn’t they? The knowledge felt like a knife in his chest, almost leaving him out-of-breath, like he’d been knocked.

“Please, Dani.”

“I’m so disappointed in you, Neymar.” His eyes were cold, trained on Ney’s hazel eyes. “You disappointed me.”

The tears were going to come, but Neymar fought furiously, swallowing hard. “Why?”

Dani simply pointed and Neymar turned, following the direction of his finger. He was pointing straight out the open breakfast area into the living room.

At Felipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know things are a bit slow, but i hope that the next chapter will be more exciting. i'm trying to go slow because i think it'll be better to go slow than rush every thing. so i hope you guys hang in there. in any case, please do let me know what you think! <3


	9. Phone Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a super-sized chapter. i could have probably broken it down into two chapters, but i really felt that it belonged in one chapter. i'm nervous about this chapter, but i hope you guys like!! <3

* * *

Neymar turned to Dani slowly. “Felipe?” He struggled to keep his voice down, to remain calm, but he couldn’t hide his incredulity. “You’re angry about _Felipe_? Dani, we spoke about this—“  
  
“No, we didn’t! We haven’t spoken about this, Neymar. Not about _this_.” Dani’s hazel eyes were furious, flashing, but also guarded. And that, coupled with the strange emphasis, made Ney pause.  
  
He searched Dani’s eyes, his mind racing. What was Dani telling him? He didn’t understand. “Then let’s talk about it.”  
  
“I can’t,” Dani said curtly. “We have to leave.”  
  
Neymar frowned, exasperated. “So you won’t tell me?” His anger mounted with each word, humiliation lashing him. “Why did I even _bother_ to try and talk to you then? You clearly don’t even care!”  
  
Dani’s hands fisted at his sides. “Oh and _you_ care, right, Neymar?” His laughed softly, mockingly, and it enraged Ney. “You care _so_ much. You’re such a _good_ person, you really _understand_ things.”  
  
“What are you even talking about? Why don’t you just come out and say things instead of talking in goddamn riddles?” Neymar wasn’t shouting, but heads were starting to turn. He noticed people peeping into the kitchen, their eyebrows raised.  
  
“No—because you’re a child. You don’t deserve—“  
  
“Who are you to tell me what I do and do not deserve?” Neymar asked, voice shaking with anger. “You didn’t even ask! You never even bothered to find out!”  
  
“Why should I ask? Why couldn’t you tell me?” Dani placed his palms on his chest, fingers spread widely, his eyes wide, flashing, furious. “I’m your friend!”  
  
“But not your best friend.”  
  
Dani reeled back a little. “What?”  
  
“Leo’s your best friend, right, Dani?” Neymar threw out, his hand darting in the air. He felt a sick sensation sliding up his throat. “Right?”  
  
Dani frowned. “Dude, what are you even talking about? We’re talking about one thing and you’re talking about something else. Make up your mind what you’re mad about.”  
  
Neymar felt a hot stinging ache in his chest, a feeling of complete loneliness. He had Felipe—but it was all he had. Meanwhile, Leo was Dani’s. And Dani was Leo’s.  
  
He blinked suddenly, feeling very tired. He wanted to go home, wanted to curl up under blankets and sleep. He wished Felipe would stay at his own place tonight, wished he could be all alone, just for one night.  
  
He just wanted to give up.  
  
“Neymar, Neymar!”  
  
Ney raised his head. He saw Dani staring at him in expectation, as if he’d been calling him for a while now. Neymar shook his head.  
  
“I think I’m going to go.”  
  
Dani’s jaw hardened, his teeth grinding. “No, you’re staying right here.”  
  
“ _You_ were _just_ going to leave.”  
  
“Are you an idiot? You think I’m going to let you go home when you’re looking like _that_?” Dani asked, gesturing at his face.  
  
Neymar laughed a little humourlessly. “I don’t care. About any of this.  It doesn’t matter. I’m going home.” He turned away, fully intending to leave when Leo moved into his way, blocking his exit.  
  
Surprised, Neymar searched his face. He’d almost forgotten Messi was here. Leo’s face was in half-shadow, expressionless as always. He met Neymar’s eyes, black and imposing.

Ney sighed. He was bone-weary. He wished he’d never met these jocks—they’d made his life so complicated.  
  
But Leo didn’t speak to him. Instead he looked over Neymar’s shoulder.  
  
“Dani.”  
  
Despite Neymar’s exhaustion, curiosity got the better of him and he looked over his shoulder at Dani. Dani looked arrested, his eyes seeing something Ney had missed in Leo’s face.  
  
Leo continued, his voice soft, the word carrying a warning. He stepped around Ney, towards Dani, his eyes holding Dani’s. “Come on, Dani.”  
  
It almost sounded, Neymar thought wonderingly, like Leo was pleading. But for what? He watched, confused, as Dani and Leo stared at each other, one breathing hard, the other appearing cool and calm.  
  
“I can’t take it, Leo! I can’t watch this!” Dani suddenly burst out and, to Neymar’s shock, Dani’s voice broke a little on the last word.  
  
Leo was standing so close to Dani now that his voice was nothing more than a whisper, Ney straining to hear. He murmured something to Dani, who shook his head repeatedly. This went on for about thirty seconds or so, Leo talking urgently, while Dani just stared at the floor and periodically shook his head.  
  
Bewildered, Neymar watched them embrace suddenly, spontaneously, obviously emotional. “What is going on? Leo, what do you have to do with this?”  
  
Leo ignored him. Ney felt that loneliness spike inside of him again and he began to turn away, fully and completely frustrated, just as Dani said, “Are you happy, Neymar? Does Felipe make you happy?”  
  
Ney flushed, still a bit confused by the turn of events. “Of course.”  
  
“You haven’t kept me in the loop. You didn’t talk to me. You never even told me you were dating Felipe.” Dani’s expression was flat. “You should have.”  
  
“I know,” Neymar said, too tired to fight anymore. His face twisted a little, almost ruefully. “I was... I was scared, Dani. I knew you didn’t like him and he told me you weren’t happy.”  
  
“He shouldn’t have been our go-between.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
There was a silence and they stared at each other, Neymar feeling the tangible distance between them, literal and otherwise. How had it come to this?  
  
“I love Leo a lot, Ney, but—“  
  
Neymar cut him off. “Don’t, Dani. It’s okay. Don’t tell me, please. I can’t take it tonight.”  
  
Dani froze, staring. Perhaps Neymar’s expression, his desperation, showed how close he was to the breaking point. Dani nodded.  
  
Neymar looked down, the silence filling his ears. “You should have come to me. You didn’t even invite me to your parties. You let me go.”  
  
Dani’s voice sounded muffled. “It was really hard watching you go through it once. It felt like you didn’t care about me or any of your friends. We have to go through it too, you know. And it’s worse this time, it hurts oth—“ He cleared his throat, suddenly confused, looking down. He took a deep breath, then went on, his words slow, deliberate. “You don’t know how it affects us.”  
  
Ney felt guilt lap at him, shame falling over him like a cool blanket. “Dani, I’m sorry. I care. But Felipe is different this time. I... I trust him, Dani.”  
  
Dani looked up, his smile very sad. It almost looked like he pitied Neymar. “You aren’t seeing everything, Ney, you aren’t.”  
  
“What do you mean? Do you know something about Felipe that I don’t?” Neymar’s heart began to pound, the familiar dread crawling beneath his skin. A girl? A guy? Ney almost wanted to stuff his ears with his fingers and scream—so that he wouldn’t have to hear the words.  
  
Dani shook his head. “It’s not always about Felipe.”  
  
Ney stopped, confused. “Then who?”  
  
Dani rubbed a hand on his face. “You need to—" He shook his head. “I can’t explain it,” he said frankly.  
  
“Why not?” Neymar asked blankly.

Dani swallowed. He looked like he was fighting the urge to say something, his throat working, emotions flashing across his face in quick succession. Finally, he opened his mouth. “Neymar,” he said carefully, “there are certain things that I can’t always explain. It isn’t necessarily about Felipe. Maybe those things are about you. Maybe I want you to look at yourself, ask yourself: am I happy? Truly happy?”

“But… I am,” Ney said, utterly bemused. “I’m happy, Dani.”

Dani looked pained, but simply nodded. “Just take care of yourself, alright?”

Neymar nodded, still puzzled. He didn’t fully understand what Dani was talking about, but he also knew that when Dani refused to say something, there was no getting it out of him. Obviously Dani was afraid that he wasn’t really happy—but he _was_. How could he explain that to them?

Dani interrupted his musing with a sigh. Smiling slightly, he moved forward. “Come here, Ney.”

Neymar hesitated, then stepped towards him. They stood in front of each other for a moment, assessing, wary. Then, simultaneously, they hugged—slowly, awkwardly, a million unsaid things between them.  
  
“Let’s not do this again. Next time, we communicate. We can’t do this again.”  
  
Neymar nodded, face buried in Dani’s shoulder. He felt strangely emotional, his head still racing with unanswered questions. He was also exhausted again, overwhelmed.  
  
Dani continued, pushing Ney back enough so they could look at each other. “As long as he makes you happy, then I support you. Always.” Dani’s voice sounded beaten, but he was meeting Neymar’s eyes head-on, squarely. He was telling the truth.  
  
Neymar felt a rush of gladness spread through him. “Do you mean it, Dani?” He couldn’t keep the wobbly note of emotion out of the question.  
  
Dani nodded. It was all Neymar needed. He threw himself at Dani again, wrapping his arms around him tightly, flooded with relief. Dani didn’t return the hug for a few seconds, then gently patted Ney’s sides. He disengaged slowly, pushing Neymar off.  
  
“Are we friends again?”  
  
Dani smiled and affection lit his face for the first time that Neymar had seen in weeks. “Always,” he said softly. “I have to go pick up Joana now from the train station, but I’ll give you a call.” He squeezed Neymar’s arm, who nodded.

Dani inclined his head at Leo—a soft quick glance that Ney felt fully, that made Neymar bite his lip. Then he turned and moved noiselessly out the kitchen entrance, heading to the bedroom to pick up his jacket.   
  
As he left, Ney suddenly made to go after him, opening his mouth to call him back, suddenly unhappy with the way things had ended. But Leo held his sleeve.  
  
“Let him go.”  
  
Neymar turned to Leo, surprised.  
  
“He needs some time. That wasn’t easy for him.”  
  
Ney faced Leo almost accusingly, unable to help a slight feeling of betrayal, unable to keep the coolness out of his voice. “What did you say to Dani? What did you whisper to him?”  
  
Leo’s eyes were dark, but not cold. “Ney.”  
  
“Tell me,” Ney insisted, stepping closer, close enough that Leo had to tip his chin up a little. Leo didn’t back up.  
  
“I asked him to remember that you were his friend.”  
  
“That’s it?” Neymar swallowed the ball in his throat, the knowledge that he’d been close to losing Dani, that Leo’s intervention—Leo’s  _pity_ —had probably saved him. It was a terrible piece of information to have.  
  
Leo nodded. His eyes were calm and unshadowed, but Neymar wondered. “He’s been miserable without you,” Leo offered.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me? All of it?”  
  
Leo’s response was measured. “Because it isn’t my business.”  
  
Neymar smiled sourly. “But today it was?”  
  
Messi’s lips quirked. “Had to do something. He was pining. Don’t know why, though.”  
  
Neymar smiled. It was a weak joke, but he was tired. He knew Leo was changing the subject, but he let it happen. Leo was protecting Neymar, keeping something from him, and although that stung, he also knew that Leo was trying to protect his feelings. So he brushed it aside.  


“He did it cause he missed me, cause he’s my _friend_ ,” Neymar muttered, glaring a little. They were joking, but Ney also felt like he had to push this point—it was important that Leo _knew_.

Leo grinned. “Yeah, but why? Who could be your friend?”

“You’re my friend,” Ney retorted, pushing Leo slightly, who didn’t even budge.

“Nah.”

“You would _die_ without me,” Ney scoffed, stepping even closer, his hands coming up to tug insistently on Leo’s sweater. He was desperately trying to talk himself out of his bad mood. It took effort—because he was actually still angry, still hurt, still feeling the overwhelming feeling of not being included in their friendship.  
  
And it wasn’t just Dani. He was with Leo, too, with himself. And still overwhelmingly—almost _painfully_ —lonely.  
  
Leo smiled, his own hands moving in response to cup Neymar’s elbows. “Would I?”  
  
“You would,” Ney said, his voice dropping a little, stepping closer. He felt his head swim a little, a mix of paradoxical emotions whirling inside of him. One of betrayal, one that Leo would never be _his_ close friend, also one of... safety.  
  
The thing was, Leo had always made it okay. From getting Ney home when Rafaella was in an accident, to taking care of his mother, to fixing things between him and Dani, to listening to him talk about Felipe... Leo had always come through.  
  
Leo was still smiling, his eyes warm, not saying anything. For a moment, they stood like that, looking at each other, Ney’s hands gripping the front of Leo’s sweater, Leo still holding the backs of Ney’s arms.  
  
“All good here?”  
  
They didn’t jump apart, per se, but it definitely felt like a scramble. Neymar’s heart hammering, he turned to the door where Felipe was standing. Felipe’s expression was polite, a smile on his face. He didn’t look upset at all.  
  
Neymar moved forward hurriedly though, guilt thrumming through his veins. _I have nothing to feel guilty about_ , he thought, smiling brightly.  
  
“Hi babe. I was just catching up with Leo. Have you two met?” He kissed Felipe on the cheek in greeting, his arm lightly wrapping around him.  
  
Felipe smiled, nodding, his own arm draping around Ney’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Yeah, we’ve met. Hey, Leo.” He shrugged his shoulders, dipping his chin as he spoke.  
  
Leo jammed his fingers into his pockets. He smiled too. “Hey. Long time. How’ve you been, man?”  
  
“Good, good. You? Still playing soccer?”  
  
“Oh yeah. What about you?”  
  
Neymar turned, surprised, his face tilting up. “You play soccer?”  
  
Felipe’s smile was slightly mocking, but in a gentle way. “I have some talents.”  
  
“He’s good, Ney.” Leo turned to Felipe. “You should come to a game. We play next weekend. You can even drop by training anytime. We can play a little one-on-one.”  
  
Felipe smiled, eyes lighting up. “Hey, that sounds great. I’ll definitely do that. Ney has your number, right? I’ll just get it off him?”  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
“How come I don’t get an invite, huh?” Neymar joked, feeling slightly uncomfortable though he couldn’t say why.  
  
“Because you haven’t watched us play yet.”  
  
Felipe nodded in agreement. Neymar looked at him in fake outrage. “So you’re siding with him?”  
  
Felipe grinned. “Always.” And, bending down, he kissed Neymar softly, drawing out the kiss, romantic and sweet.  
  
Felipe had always been a good kisser and, by the time he lifted his head, Ney was slightly giddy. They looked at Leo, who had politely turned away.  
  
“Well, shall we go back out there?” Ney asked, slightly breathlessly.   
  
Messi smiled, gesturing for them to lead the way. Neymar turned, allowing Felipe to gently buffer him through the crowd, his hand warm and low on Ney’s back.  


 

* * *

  
  
By the time Neymar and Felipe got back to Ney’s apartment, he was tipsy enough to be giggly. He kept leaning against Felipe, who took his weight easily, waiting patiently as Neymar fumbled with the keys.  
  
Finally, when he sank against Felipe in a fit of giggles, unable to open the door, Felipe calmly reached around him, smiling, plucking the keys out of his hand and smoothly unlocking the door.  
  
Neymar leaned against him, savouring his tallness, his maleness, his scent, the feeling of being in his arms. Felipe moved his lips slowly against Ney’s neck, just brushing, murmuring against Neymar’s caramel skin.  
  
“Shall we go in? Or do we sleep out here tonight?”  
  
His arms had come around Ney’s waist, and Ney laid his own hands on them, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes, allowing Felipe to kiss him. It felt good.  
  
“Baby?”  
  
Neymar turned in his arms, soft, floppy, feeling warm and languid. He hooked his hands around Felipe’s neck whose face was in shadow.  
  
“Kiss me,” he whispered.  
  
Neymar stood on his tiptoes, but Felipe reached around his neck, disengaging Ney gently. “Let’s go in, baby. Come on.”  
  
Neymar felt a flutter of disappointment. But he rested his head on Felipe’s shoulder, nodding. With one arm around Ney, Felipe gently walked them in.  
  
He shut the door behind them, then leaned on it. They stood like that for a few minutes, in each other’s arms, quiet.  
  
Then Felipe stirred, brushing a kiss on Neymar’s hair. “Come to bed.”  
  
Ney nodded. His giggles had disappeared. He wondered if they were going to sleep together finally, but his head was too fuzzy to really put it together, to really break down the thought.  
  
Felipe led them to the bedroom, sitting Ney on the bed, standing between his legs. Neymar leaned his head forward, pressing his forehead against Felipe’s chest. Felipe rubbed his back slowly, his fingers warm and comfortable.  
  
“Come on. Let me help you change into your pjs.” Felipe’s voice was persuasive, soft.  
  
Neymar nodded. He wanted something tonight—he wanted Felipe. Truthfully, he wanted some reassurance, someone to touch and kiss and caress him. He wanted that physical intimacy. Part of him knew, perhaps, that he wasn’t fully ready, but he wanted it more than he didn’t.  
  
Felipe helped him straighten up, then moved to his closet rummaging. He came back with a pair of sweat pants. Ney always ran hot, always slept without a shirt.  
  
Swaying slightly, Neymar watched Felipe approach. Felipe was so handsome, truly. Movie-star handsome. Neymar knew how people watched Felipe, how they watched _them_ together. He wondered if they wondered how someone like _him_ could have landed someone like _Felipe_.  
  
The thought made him flush. He tilted his chin as Felipe drew closer.  
  
“Penny for your thoughts,” he murmured when he was standing right in front of Ney, running a finger down his exposed throat.  
  
Neymar shivered, but didn’t reply, simply sat up straight, waiting. There was tension in the air, a sharp electrical energy. That crackle had disappeared for a long time, that chemistry. He was glad it was back.  
  
Felipe stepped closer, a breath away from Neymar, reaching down, curling his fingers under Neymar’s sweater. He began to tug upwards and Ney raised his arms.  
  
It came off smoothly, dragging Ney’s shirt along with it. Bare chested, he shivered, leaning impulsively forward to kiss Felipe’s clothed chest. He felt vulnerable and he began to pull Felipe down for a kiss, needing some reassurance.  
  
But Felipe shook his head, pushing at Neymar’s chest. “Wait,” he murmured.  
  
Neymar subsided, ignoring the sting in his chest. He’d been rejecting Felipe for weeks but experiencing it in kind sucked. Of course, though, Felipe wasn’t really rejecting him. Just making him wait.  
  
Right?  
  
“Stand up, baby.”  
  
The endearment reassured him and he stood, slightly wobbly. Felipe hadn’t backed up so for a moment they stood like that, their bodies gently pressed together, an exquisitely erotic sensation.  
  
Then Felipe moved back, just a bit, and begin to undo Neymar’s jeans. They whooshed down and Neymar stepped out of them, losing his balance slightly. Felipe caught him deftly with one hand and then easily bent down to pick up the jeans. He tossed them away before kneeling in front of Ney, holding out the sweatpants for Ney to step into.  
  
Pleasantly tipsy, Ney placed his hand on Felipe’s head, patting him. “You’re nice.”  
  
Felipe smiled, looking up. “You’re nicer. Come on, get into the pants.”  
  
Neymar nodded vigorously and stepped into them, swaying. Quickly, Felipe pulled them up, pulling the drawstring tight, simultaneously standing up and bracing Neymar.  
  
Ney took full advantage, leaning heavily on Felipe. “You smell good,” he whispered.  
  
Felipe’s warm hands were touching his bare skin, making him shiver. He wondered now why Felipe had bothered to dress him at all—weren’t they going to sleep together?  
  
He looked up, frowning. “You’re very handsome, you know.”  
  
Felipe’s laugh was soft. “Thank you. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”  
  
Neymar wanted to say no, but he wasn’t drunk enough to spew nonsense yet. Not quite yet.  
  
He allowed Felipe to maneuver him to the bed, swinging his feet under the covers, allowing Felipe to tuck him in.  
  
He watched drowsily as his boyfriend moved around the room, unbuttoning his shirt. He was musing on how attractive he was when Felipe’s words began filtering into his brain.  
  
Startled, Ney paid attention.  
  
“I didn’t know you knew Lionel Messi.”  
  
Felipe moved into the closet without waiting for an answer, dumping his shoes out.  
  
“Oh yes,” Ney said after realizing who Lionel was. “We’re friends.” He frowned. “But not best friends.”  
  
Felipe came back into the room, leaning against a wall sideways, smiling. “Not best friends?”  
  
Neymar shook his head, feeling the room spin a little. “Dani’s his best friend. And Leo’s Dani’s best friend. I thought Dani was _my_ best friend but he’s not. He’s Leo’s.” He was repeating himself but he couldn’t help it.  
  
“That was quite a hug you guys had, huh?” Felipe’s voice was jovial, light-hearted.  
  
Neymar squinted. “Which hug?”  
  
Felipe smiled, shaking his head. “Never mind, I’m just joking.”  
  
Then Ney remembered. He flushed. “Oh that.” He tried to sit up but was too dizzy and could only manage to get up on one elbow. “We haven’t seen each other in a while.”  
  
Felipe kept smiling. “Should I be jealous?” he joked.  
  
Neymar shook his head. “Of course not,” he said emphatically. He fell back onto the pillows, too dizzy now. “You’re my boyfriend. He’s my friend.”  
  
“But not your best friend.”  
  
Neymar squinted suspiciously at Felipe, wondering if he was being made fun of. But Felipe was quite serious. He nodded, subsiding. “No. He’s Dani’s. Not mine.”  
  
Felipe moved rapidly across the bedroom, coming very close to Neymar. Ney blinked at him, surprised. He bent over him, hands bracketing Ney’s head on the pillow.  
  
“Do you still want me to kiss you?” Felipe whispered.  
  
Thoroughly distracted, mesmerized, Neymar reached a hand up, brushing Felipe’s hair off his forehead. “Yes.”  
  
Felipe kissed him, slowly, sensuously, thoroughly. His mouth was warm—it nipped, rubbed, moved gently over Neymar’s.  
  
This was what Ney had wanted. He sank into it, fingers slipping into Felipe’s hair, tongue coming out to touch Felipe’s.  
  
His mind drifted, happy, relaxed. He was so glad that this was finally happening, that they were finally okay. He’d been worried for a moment there, Felipe asking those questions about Leo.  
  
He missed Messi. They had to talk more. Since that time they’d gone out to dinner, they hadn’t actually spent any time together. That night... in the car, there had been...  
  
He froze. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he focusing?  
  
Felipe sensed the shift in his mood and lifted his head. “What?”  
  
Neymar thought about it, he did. Even with his head spinning, he thought about pulling Felipe back into a kiss, thought about fucking him just to go along with it. But he couldn’t. The mood had shattered.  
  
“What is it? You don’t want to?”  
  
“I-I—" he stammered, suddenly afraid of turning Felipe down again.  
  
Felipe stood abruptly. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face, exhaled loudly. Neymar sat up with an effort, his balance off.  
  
“Felipe?” he whispered.  
  
Felipe looked down, then smiled. It looked forced. “Ney, baby, I think I’ll stay at Dani’s tonight.”  
  
“What?” Neymar asked blankly. Felipe hadn’t spent a single night at Dani’s place in at least two months. “Please, please don’t go. Let’s talk.”  
  
Felipe brushed a hand gently over Ney’s hair. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I think we both need one night to sleep well, get some space, think about stuff.”  
  
Neymar fought the panic down. “No, please, we’ll talk about it now.” He clutched Felipe’s sleeve.  
  
“Sweetheart, it’s 2am and you’re tipsy. This is a good thing, I promise. I live there, anyway. It’s not fair I stay here all the time. We’ll talk tomorrow for sure. You’re tired, you need to sleep.” He kissed Neymar’s palm, his mouth warm.  
  
Ney didn’t know what to say. “Are you mad at me?” he asked in a small voice.  
  
“No, baby. I’m just tired and you are too. It’ll be fine in the morning, don’t worry.”  
  
He brushed a kiss over Ney’s forehead and left, despite his protests, shutting the door softly behind him.  
  
Ney laid back in bed, dry-eyed. The fear was coming now, lapping at him in waves. He took a few deep breaths, struggling to calm down.  
  
But he was drunker than he thought and he fell asleep quickly, his head spinning into unconsciousness. And he dreamt of falling, falling off a cliff into a black abyss.  


 

* * *

  
  
For the next week, he didn’t see Felipe much. They stayed at their separate places, Neymar in his apartment and Felipe at Dani’s place. They texted and called each other. Felipe came over only a couple of times, but he always left to go sleep at Dani’s.  
  
Neymar tried to bring up the sex issue a few times, but Felipe dodged the subject outright. The final time Ney tried, Felipe told him directly that he didn’t want to dwell on it.  
  
“I swear, we don’t need to talk about it. It’ll be fine. Take your time with it. When you’re ready, tell me. I really don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“Please, Ney. Please, baby.” He kissed Neymar softly, affectionately and Ney subsided. The truth was that, he was happier. There was no pressure to have sex, he had more space now that Felipe slept in his own place, he was studying better.  
  
What he liked the most was that he was talking more with Dani and Leo. Dani had unexpectedly dropped by one afternoon at the library with a coffee for Ney, smiling broadly, singing and getting threatened by the librarian with permanent expulsion from the library. That had been a good day.  
  
There was still that awkwardness between them, of course, moments of stillness, tension. They avoided talking about Felipe, but Neymar didn’t have anything to say about him, anyway.

Everything seemed to be working out fine and Ney was happier than he’d been in in weeks. So when Leo invited him over a “movie night”, after which he spent the rest of the call chortling at his own joke, Neymar happily accepted. He hadn’t been alone with Leo in months and he was beyond excited.  
  
He explained to Felipe that he was going to Leo’s place, bracing himself for awkwardness. But instead, Felipe smiled and shrugged, told him to enjoy himself.  
  
Happy, Ney went over to Leo’s place, jumping on him as soon as the door opened. Leo staggered back, taking his weight.  
  
They hugged for a long moment, Ney savouring Leo’s soapy smell. “Hi fatty,” Leo murmured into Ney’s hair.  
  
Ney pushed back, beaming. “I gained 5 pounds! Can you tell?”  
  
Leo grinned. “Not even a little. You’re still skinny.”  
  
Neymar pouted, following Leo as he led him to the couch. He plopped on the couch, squinting into a half-full cup of brownish liquid sitting on the coffee table. “Don’t be rude to your guest. What’s this? Coke?”  
  
“Yeah, do you want some? I have Diet too. Oh, and Sprite.”  
  
“Yes, Coke please. Not Diet.”  
  
Leo laughed, disappearing into the kitchen. Ney heard him rummaging around in there and he leaned back, sinking into the cushions, remembering the last time he’d come over. He grinned. That had been the first time they’d ever hung out alone.  
  
“What’re you smiling at?” Leo asked, coming back to the living room.  
  
Ney shrugged. “What’re we watching?”  
  
“A match. Barcelona vs Espanyol.”  
  
Neymar blinked. “You said it was a movie!” he said accusingly.  
  
Leo grinned. “I know, I lied ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t come if it was a match.”  
  
Neymar folded his arms, glaring. Secretly, though, he was delighted. The fact that Leo had wanted him to come so much he’d _lied_ about what they were watching was enough for Ney to put up with anything, even soccer.  
  
“How long are matches?”  
  
“You came late, asshole, so there’s only the second half to go. It’s 45 minutes.”  
  
Ney groaned. “That’s so _long_.”  
  
“Shut up and watch some football.”  
  
Ney crinkled his eyes, smiling. “You call it football, too? Dani does that too.”  
  
Leo grinned. “Well everyone back home calls it football. Or futbol. And Barça is the European club I watch and they call it football, too. It’s just become a habit.”  
  
Ney smiled, leaning his head on the back of the couch, looking at Leo. “Aren’t you cute.”  
  
“Stop that.” He threw a cushion at Neymar, catching him square between his eyes. “If Dani hears you, he’ll think you’re flirting with me.”  
  
“Maybe I am,” Ney sang, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
Leo didn’t even bother rolling his eyes. He was staring at the tv. “Shut up before I punch you.”  
  
Grinning, Neymar settled down. The game started after a few minutes and he pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through Twitter, already bored.  
  
They sat like that for at least fifteen minutes, sipping their Cokes, munching on popcorn. Neymar watched very little, looking up only when Messi swore or made a remark or whooped. He whooped more and more—Ney gathered that his team was winning.  
  
“They scouted me, you know.”  
  
Ney took a second to catch on. “Barça scouted _you_?”  
  
Leo nodded. A stain of red was spreading up his neck. He studiously avoided Ney’s eyes.  
  
“And?” Neymar’s voice had risen in both pitch and volume. Even _he_ knew how big FC Barcelona was.  
  
Leo shrugged. “I said no.”  
  
Jaw agape, he stared. “Why?”  
  
“They keep trying, ask me every few months or so. They send guys after me. Each time, the money goes up. Madrid, United, they’ve all asked.”  
  
Neymar was genuinely astounded. “You’re _that_ good?”  
  
Leo laughed, but his ears turned red. He finally met Ney’s eyes. “It’s a lot of hype, you know. I score a few goals and they talk it up. It’s our team really. We haven’t been beaten. We’re pretty good. So it becomes this thing and big teams hear it. But I can only score those goals because of the team.”  
  
“Why doesn’t anyone else on the team score those goals, then?”  
  
Leo grinned sheepishly, turning even redder. Ney had never seen him like this, soft and embarrassed and almost... vulnerable.  
  
“Why don’t you go?”  
  
It was the million-dollar question. He’d wanted to know the reason for ages but no one had told him. Ney knew Dani knew but Dani was... loyal. He wouldn’t betray Leo, not like that.  
  
Leo shrugged, turning his attention back on to the tv. Neymar watched him a little, knowing Leo didn’t want to open up any more, but thankful he’d given Ney at least this much. It would be harder with Leo than with anyone else.  
  
What _would be harder with Leo?,_ his brain asked.  
  
Neymar turned his head away, inwardly shocked, almost electrified. What was he thinking about? Where was his mind going?  
  
He looked down at his phone, trying to distract himself, biting his lip. Thinking quickly, he opened up a conversation with Felipe, typing in a short text and immediately felt much better. Exhaling, he leaned back on the couch again, slowly relaxing.  
  
“All good?” Leo asked, gesturing with his chin at Ney’s phone. “He good?”

“Yes,” Ney said automatically. Then, suddenly, he put his phone down, staring forward. “No. No he’s not. No, we’re not.” His voice was flat, his words tumbling out slowly. The admission rocked him a little—he’d been denying for so long that there was something deeply wrong with their sex life. But it wasn’t normal. Their previous relationship had been so _grounded_ in sex—and now they hadn’t even slept together _once._ He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Leo paused the TV. He turned to Neymar, his eyes calm as always. It reassured him immediately. “What is it?

The heat began immediately. He felt his cheeks burn, his ears. Even his toes felt hot. He hoped the blush wouldn’t show under his brown skin. “We aren’t having sex.” He couldn’t meet Leo’s eyes.

Leo was silent for so long that Ney couldn’t take it much longer and peeked up, bursting into pressured speech. “It’s like… we kiss and stuff. But I can’t—I mean, I _can_ , I’m fully capable, nothing’s _wrong_ with me—it’s just, with him—he’s attractive, of course—who doesn’t find Felipe attract—”

Leo’s hand on his arm stopped him mid-ramble. “Ney,” Leo said gently. “Slowly. Tell me slowly.”

Miserable and embarrassed, Ney stared at Leo’s arm hair. “I can’t get hard with him,” he said in the quietest voice possible. He registered that this was something he would have told no one else, not a single other soul. There was just something about Leo that invited confidences, something about Leo.

“But alone, you can…?”

Ney’s head snapped up. “Oh, _yes_ , there’s _no_ problem there,” he said emphatically. “Everything is _fine_ down there. We are doing good, we—”

Leo squeezed Neymar’s arm. Ney realised he hadn’t removed his hand and dimly wondered if that was normal. But it was comforting so he pushed the thought aside. “Okay, so it’s something with Felipe. When’s the last time you had sex? Did something weird happen then?”

Ney shook his head, his cheeks reddening again. “We haven’t had sex. At all. At first,” he cleared his throat, forcing himself to go on. “At first, we were doing other stuff. But… too much time has passed and we don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“Do you ever initiate anything?”

Ney frowned at Leo. “What do you mean?”

“Do you ever kiss him first? Touch him first? Is he the one always making the move?”

Ney thought about that. The answer surprised him. “He always makes the move,” Neymar admitted. “I didn’t really realise that.”

“Maybe you need to take the initiative. Maybe you need to do something first.”

“But I did!” Ney burst out before he could stop himself.

“And?”

Neymar looked down. “A few days ago,” he whispered, so embarrassed he thought he would prefer the earth swallowing him up rather than look at Leo anymore.

“And?”

“He said no. He got…” Neymar’s brow furrowed in thought. “I can’t remember it very clearly—I was pretty tipsy. He even went home to stay with Dani. He hasn’t been staying at my place since then.”

Leo frowned. “Did you ask…?”

Ney nodded eagerly. “I did! I asked so many times. He just said he didn’t want to talk about it. He said it would fix itself.”

“Maybe he’s right.”

“Or maybe he’s wrong!” Neymar’s voice was rising. “Maybe he’ll leave me for someone who—maybe…” He trailed off, shocked at the direction of his own thoughts.

Leo was quiet. “He’s not with you for the sex, Ney.”

“Maybe he is. We used to have mind-blowing sex before,” Ney muttered bitterly. “Now I can’t even get it up.”

Messi cleared his throat. “Listen. Maybe you need to try something new. Why don’t you start small?”

“Like what?”

Leo looked directly at him. Ney wondered what it was like to be like that—to be so direct, to be so honest, that you never had any fear of looking anyone in the eye. “Like… foreplay. Baths. Massages. Phone sex. Dancing. Anything can be sexy, you know. It’s all about intimacy. Men are easy.” Leo’s grin was spontaneous.

“Easy for _you_ to say,” Ney said, smiling reluctantly.

“What?”

Ney flushed. “Well,” he gestured vaguely at Leo’s body and face. “You look like that.”

Leo reddened. “Shut up,” he advised. “Now. As I was saying, start small. Do it bit by bit. Until you feel comfortable— _only_ when you feel comfortable. And things will happen naturally. Don’t force things.”

Neymar bit his lip. “You think?”

Leo nodded. “Trust me. Just relax and don’t overthink things. Okay?” When Ney nodded, Leo grinned and continued, “Soooo, can I watch my match now?”

Neymar huffed, getting off the couch to go to the bathroom. “Men,” he muttered, shaking his head. He heard Leo’s laughter all the way there and, despite himself, he smiled.

 

* * *

 

But Leo’s words reverberated in Ney’s head. He thought of it the whole time on the bus ride back, picturing sensual massages, steaming baths, of wet kisses and golden skin. The problem was, there was something holding him back in person. It had taken alcohol to get his inhibitions down that night—maybe that was what he needed. A little alcohol.

Ney snorted. So if he married Felipe, he’d have to be an alcoholic to fuck his husband?

But Messi was right. He words rang true—they made sense to Neymar. He wanted to try them. In fact, he was so eager that he bounded into his apartment, rushing to the bedroom, hoping to suggest a massage.

He was so disappointed at not seeing Felipe that he almost cried. He’d forgotten that they’d taken to sleeping in separate apartments the last few days. Depressed, he fell into bed, fully clothed, laying on his belly, cursing himself.

This was all Leo’s fault. He and his stupid suggestions of massages, baths, phone sex—

Ney sat up. Phone sex. Well, that was something he could try, couldn’t he? Heart pounding, without giving himself too much time to think about it, he texted Felipe.

_Hey baby, missing you_

He bit his lip. He couldn’t start sexy right off the bat, could he? He didn’t know. He’d never sexted someone before. How did one do this?

Felipe’s answer came back flatteringly fast and Neymar smiled at the reply.

_Missing you more. What you doing_

Neymar instantly blanked. What should he say? Should he go straight to nasty? Should he tease? What if Felipe wasn’t in the mood? What if he was pooping or something? Groaning, he fell back on the bed, pressing a pillow to his face.

He tossed the pillow aside after a second, knowing Felipe was waiting, and then picked up the phone again. His courage had completely deserted him by now and he typed.

_Just got home from Leo’s. you?_

Felipe replied only ten minutes later with a smiling emoji. A minute later, he sent a picture. In it, he was wearing an apron, standing in Dani’s kitchen, flashing a thumbs up to the camera, while a pan smoked in front of him.

Neymar was at a loss. What was he to do now? He couldn’t very well sext him now, could he? Was that still possible?

Thoroughly frustrated, without even thinking too much about it, Neymar called Leo. As soon as Leo picked up, Ney snapped, “This isn’t working.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Stop joking. This _isn’t_ working and it’s all your fault!”

“What isn’t?”

“Your _advice_. I don’t know how to sext anyone. I’ve never done this before! Why do people do this? This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of—”

“Ney,” Leo interrupted. “What happened?”

“Nothing! That’s what happened! Nothing!”

“Ney,” Leo said patiently. “Can you please explain everything from the start to the finish? I’m not a mind reader.”

“I thought I’d follow your stupid dumb advice! So I tried sexting. And so I told him I was missing him, and he said he was missing me, and then he asked me what I’m doing and I said I just got home from your place.”

“And?”

“And that’s it!”

There was a pregnant pause. “ _That_ was your attempt at sexting?” Leo asked incredulously.

“Well, I don’t know how to do this!” Ney said loudly, incensed. “I’m not some hot jock who sexts everyone I know! You aren’t born doing this!” Leo sighed, interrupting Neymar’s rant, who got more infuriated. “What? Why are _you_ sighing? Did I bother you while you were sexting fourteen girls all at once?”

“I’m sighing because you’re a drama queen.”

Shaking with anger, Neymar almost shouted into the phone. “Well, thank you for your help, Leo! You’ve been _such_ a big help!”

“Why don’t you shut up and let me speak?” Irritated, but unwilling to hang up, Neymar stayed silent. Leo went on. “Just try again. Try to be more suggestive this time. Hint at things.”

Bewildered, Neymar groaned. “I can’t do this. I don’t even _know_ what being suggestive means. What am I supposed to do? Please just do this for me.”

Leo snorted, his voice slightly muffled. “Sure. Why don’t you just give me his number and I’ll sext him tonight, how’s that?”

“No,” Neymar said quietly, knowing what he was asking was a lot. “But can you tell me what to say?”

“How? I’m not there.”

“You could just stay on the line.”

There was a long tense silence. “Neymar,” Leo said, in a slightly cracked voice. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”

“I _knowwww_ ,” Ney whined. “But I really don’t know what to do. _Please_ , Leo.”

“This doesn’t even make sense.” Leo’s voice was clearly agitated. “The whole point is for you to get turned on! How would you do that if I was on the phone with you?”

“I know, I know. But I’m desperate, Leo. Please, I want my relationship to work. I don’t know what to do. Please help me this once. And then, and _then_ , the next time, I’ll know what to do. _Please_.”

Leo went silent again before cursing. “This is _so_ fucking weird, Ney!”

Ney held his tongue and his breath, hoping. Sure enough, after a minute, Leo swore again and curtly said, “Fine. Put me on speaker. Then read his last message to me.”

Ney held back his whoop of delight, rushing to comply. “He sent me a picture of himself cooking.”

“Send me the picture.”

“Okay.” Neymar sent the picture immediately, waiting for a few moments before Leo’s voice filtered through the line.

“Tell him, if you were there, you’d be his sous chef, you’d do all his bidding. Then send a second message adding the words ‘in the kitchen’.” Leo’s voice was clipped, formal, professional.

Ney’s cheeks burned. “That’s so _corny_!”

“You’re the one who asked me to help, _right_?” For the first time that Ney had known Messi, his voice was slightly raised. He sounded genuinely irritated. “If you don’t want my advice, then why did you even ask?”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I won’t say anything.” He typed quickly and sent both messages, cheeks flushed. He was 100% sure it wouldn’t work, so he was shocked when Felipe’s typing bubble popped up immediately.

He typed, stopped, typed, stopped, typed, stopped. Bewildered, Ney reported this to Leo.

Leo’s voice was smug. “You’ll see.”

Sure enough, Felipe’s reply was succinct.

_wow_

He kept typing. Neymar bit his lip, wondering if he should tell Messi yet, but it wasn’t quite over and soon a message came back.

_Wish you were here_

Neymar repeated the messages to Leo in breathless accents, his heart beating in his chest.

“Okay. Say ‘what would you do if I was there’.”

“That is—no. I’m not saying that.”

“You know what, I’m not doing this with you. This is bad enough without you questioning me the whole time.”

“No, no!” Ney shouted. “Okay, okay. Hold on. I’ll type it.”

He sent it, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe anything that sounded _that_ stupid would work. He’d genuinely thought stuff like that only happened in movies. But Leo was clearly already annoyed and Ney certainly wasn’t going to do this alone so he kept his mouth shut. They waited in sullen silence until Ney’s phone chirped.

_Damn_

_Stop that_

_You know I can’t concentrate if you do that_

Ney’s lips parted in surprise. He cleared his throat. “So he replied.”

“Let me guess: he told you to stop because he can’t cook when you talk like that.”

Ney stared at the phone like it had grown a head and sprouted wings. “How did you _know_ that?”

Leo’s laugh was genuine. “Because it’s always the same. All sexting is the same. It’s actually pretty dumb.”

“So then why am I doing it?”

“Because you wanted to fix your relationship. But if you changed your mind—”

“No, no, no. I haven’t. What should I say now?”

“‘I can’t stop. I want you.’”

Ney typed quickly, his heart beating fast. He _wanted_ Felipe to think he wanted this too. He hoped this was the way.

_What are you wearing_

Ney rolled his eyes. Was he serious? “He asked me what I was wearing.”

“What do you wanna say?”

“Pants and a sweatshirt.”

“So sexy,” Leo said dryly. “This isn’t real, dumbass. Say you’re naked.”

“Naked!” Neymar squeaked in such a high voice that it even grated his own eardrums. “Why would I say _that_? Doesn’t that seem like _too_ much?”

“To whom? A nun? Shut up. God, are you gonna fight me the whole way?”

Neymar typed as fast as he could, then quickly buried his phone under the pillow as protection. Tense, he paced around the room for some relief and then remembered that Leo was still on the line and, yelping, he retrieved the phone.

“Leo?” he asked, checking to see if he was still there.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.”

They kept quiet as Neymar paced, waiting. When Felipe’s response finally came, Ney was ready to scream in frustration. He opened the message with a pounding heart.

_Jesus. Fuck._

_Do you know how hard I’d fuck you if I was there?_

“I can’t read the messages to you,” Neymar said shakily, frozen in his tracks. His knees felt like jelly. “It’s too… I just can’t.”

“Do you want to forward it to me instead?” Leo asked shrewdly.

“Yes. Hold on.” He sat down on the edge of the bed—mainly for his knees—and waited for Leo.

“Okay, here’s what you do,” Leo said briskly. “Now you tell him you wish he was there—because you _need_ to be fucked, emphasis on need.”

“Okay, okay.” Fingers trembling, Ney wrote, re-wrote, deleted, and then re-wrote. “How’s this? ‘Yes, I want you to fuck me so hard. I wish you were here, I _need_ to be fucked. Right now.’”

There was a short silence. Then Leo’s voice came back. “That’s fine.”

Ney sent the message. He wasn’t getting aroused yet, but there was something in the air. Some tension. He could feel his skin tightening.

When his phone made a sound, he took a deep breath.

_Touch yourself for me now_

_Tell me what you’re doing_

Ney forwarded the messages to Leo without saying a word. He couldn’t. His mind was buzzing. Leo’s voice was husky, encouraging. “Do you know what to say?”

“I’ll say…” he trailed off, hesitating.

“Go on. Come on. Try.” Leo’s voice was soft, persuasive.

Ney swallowed. “I’ll say… ‘My hands are on my cock… I’m rubbing myself slowly, but I wish this was _your_ … hands, your mouth. I’m imagining you touching me like this, your mouth moving over my body.’”

“That’s perfect,” Leo said roughly.

He didn’t know what it was, but his cock was hardening in his jeans. It happened suddenly, a 0 to 100 thing—before he knew it, he was aching in his pants, aching to relieve himself. They fell into a silence, broken only by their breathing. Ney typed quickly, distracted by Leo’s breathing, distracted by the sounds on the other side. Finally, he sent the message.

Felipe replied too fast, too fast for Ney to calm down even a little.

_Fuck I will_

_I want to know how hard you are_

As was routine now, Ney forwarded the messages to Messi and waited.

“Tell me,” Leo said, very low in his throat.

“I’m so hard, it feels so good when I touch myself like this. I want to do this when I ride your cock, I want to touch myself while you watch me.” Unable to help himself, Ney slipped a hand inside his pants, his breathing hard. He rubbed a hand over his underwear.

Leo was silent. “That’s… that’s really good.”

“Leo?”

“Yes?”

“Leo, I’m hard,” Ney whispered.

There was a pause and Neymar could hear Leo catching his breath. “That’s… great. That’s exactly what we wanted.”

“Should I send the message?”

“Yes, you should.”

Ney typed one-handed, still rubbing himself with his other hand. He couldn’t get Leo’s breathing out of his mind—that and the combined pleasure of his hand on his cock made it almost impossible to type.

But after he sent the messages, his fingers stilled. He couldn’t do this. It was… creepy. He couldn’t masturbate while Leo was listening, but he was dying. He couldn’t control himself. Couldn’t stop.

“Leo,” he half-gasped, half-said.

“It’s okay,” Leo said, his voice scraping and guttural. “It’s okay. I know. You don’t have to stop. It’s okay.”

Neymar slipped a hand back inside his pants, this time inside his underwear, past shame. He wrapped a hand around his cock and it pulsed in his hand, the pleasure so hot and shocking that he let out a soft moan and had to turn his head away from the phone.

“You don’t… You don’t have to be quiet. Be loud. This is supposed to be… good for you. Do it right. Take off your clothes. Do it right.”

Ney followed Leo’s voice as if in a trance. He pushed his pants down, kicking it down and away from him, off the bed. He wrapped a hand around himself and began to move, making soft sounds, not quite cries, but audible.

“Did he reply?”

The question ripped through Ney’s consciousness. For a second, Neymar had no idea what Leo was talking about and then remembered. He opened his messages and murmured, “Yes,” as he read.

_Baby that’s so hot_

_I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight_

After he’d forwarded the messages to Leo, he moved his hand back down, waiting keenly for Leo’s reaction.

“Tell me.”

“I want that. I want you to fuck me again and again, over and over. I want to stay in bed with you for a whole week and I want you to fuck me until I scream. I want you to make me come and come and come. And I want you to come inside me. And then after you’ve come in me,” Ney said, gasping, moaning, totally lost now in the moment, in the pleasure, all self-consciousness out of the window, “I’ll suck your dick. Can you picture it? Me on my knees, in front of you, your dick in my mouth—” His hand was moving faster, harder, as he kept talking. It felt so good, he was losing his mind. He pumped his hips up, desperate to come. “Can you—can you see it? I’m going to suck your dick until you come in my mouth. Can you see it?”

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

“Was that good, Leo?” Ney said around a moan.

“Fuck, you know it was. Send that.” Leo’s voice was rough, hard.

Ney stopped his hands with an effort. He groped for his phone and typed quickly, barely paying attention. He was sure he hadn’t typed the whole thing he’d said to Leo, but he didn’t much care—he just wanted to come.

He moved his hand slowly, not wanting this to end so quickly. Luckily, Felipe responded quickly.

_Fuck you’ve got me so hard_

_I can’t wait to make you scream_

Ney forwarded the messages, desperate for Leo to read so he could talk again. Neymar realised he _liked_ this, liked the dirty talk, liked the way it made his cock pulse, the way it made him hard, the way it made him feel, dirty and good and sexy.

“Neymar.”

Ney plunged in, taking that as his cue. “I’m going to say your name every time I come, I’m going to scream so loud that my roommate hears, that our neighbours hear. I’m going to ride your dick and let you jack me off, until you’re gasping my name, until you’re coming, too, until you can’t take it anymore.” He paused, almost calculatingly, then continued, “Is that good, Leo? Do you like that?”

“Yes, yes.” Leo’s words were raw, scraping forth from his throat. “That’s good, Neymar. Fuck, it’s good.”

That was all it took. Ney arched his back, out of his mind, his whole body jerking. “Leo, I’m going to—I’m going to—”

“Yes, come, Ney. Come now. Come for me.” Leo’s voice was low, rough.

And Ney came. He spurted again and again, the pleasure intense and hard. It took a minute or two to subside from the peak of his orgasm, but almost instantly, the embarrassment and horror of what he’d done hit him.

“Leo?”

“Yeah, I’m here. You good?” Leo asked quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he began, rambling slightly. “I’m great. Thanks for your help. You really really helped. Thanks, huh? Well, I should probably go, you know. Long day tomorrow. And I should really go to bed.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, of course, yeah.”

“Yeah, you know how it is.” Ney paused briefly. “Good night, Leo!”

“Good night, Ney.”

And when Ney heard the chirp of a message from Felipe, he buried his phone under his pillow again and, this time, he didn’t take it back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phone sex yay? or no? anyway, let me know what you think!!


	10. Silence and Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello, my sweet plums! i was certainly not expecting to update so fast, but the muse is an interesting mistress. she giveth and she taketh away. she gaveth to me this week :)
> 
> this fic is already dedicated to my fave, [messifangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/profilemessifangirl), but this chapter is specially for her because guess what she survived another year! thanks for being my amiga. happy birthday! <3

Neymar trudged in the snow towards the library, head bent forward. He was dressed as warmly as he could: multiple layers, a scarf wound around half his face, a hat pulled low to cover his ears and gloves to protect his fingers, even though they were already frozen stiff.  
  
The top half exposed bit of his face was numb and hurting from the cold, but, thankfully, he was almost there. He squinted through the softly falling snow at the steps he had to climb to the entrance to the library. He’d slipped once on these very icy stairs and since then, he’d been extra careful. In fact, he climbed up stairs like an old man now, clutching the railing and going up one step at a time.  
  
As soon as he stepped inside, he breathed a sigh of relief as the warmth enveloped him. Stamping his foot on the carpet to get rid of the snow clinging to his boots, he dug his ID card out of his backpack and flashed the barcode to get in.  
  
Slipping the card back in the same pocket of his backpack—he had a tendency to misplace things if he changed where he stored them—he made his way to his favourite spot. It was by the corner near a window; it was relatively deserted and he’d found nobody usually liked to take his table. He came early anyway to make sure he could book the table.

He especially loved this spot because it faced the back of the building—opening onto a small deserted lane. Something about the empty lane centred him in a way that nothing else could. Besides occasional squirrels, he’d never had any surprises (by that, of course, he meant people).  
  
Sitting down, he unloaded his books and exhaled. He dug his phone out of his jeans before studying, pausing to glance through the messages. The group chat was still as noisy as ever, Dani having sent them all a few stupid memes and Marcelo arguing with a guy called Ramos, someone Neymar had yet to meet.  
  
And there it was. Another message from Leo.  
  
_Neymar please call me or at least pick up my calls_  
  
He winced, laying his phone face-down on the table. His heart was beating fast again, as it always seemed to do at any mention of Messi these days.  
  
The thing is, he knew the right thing to do was to talk to Messi. He _knew_ that. It was the right, adult thing to do.

But it was so _goddamn_ embarrassing.  
  
After they’d hung up the phone that night, about a week ago now, Ney had avoided Leo like he was the plague. Moodily, he looked unseeingly out the window, musing on that night. He’d woken up to messages and calls from Felipe, who’d—naturally—wanted to come over to finish what Neymar had started.  
  
He’d called him back, of course, and apologized for having fallen asleep. Felipe had been good-natured about it, ribbing Ney over an orgasm so good it had knocked him out flat. In fact, Felipe had been in a remarkably good mood since that incident.  
  
Ney, of course, had been swamped with guilt. He’d argued with himself about whether what had happened that night could be considered as cheating. He went back and forth but he’d finally decided it wasn’t _cheating_ , per se, but that it was inappropriate.

He wasn’t a hypocrite, though. He knew full well that if he’d discovered that Felipe had done this to him, he would have been devastated.

He had to tell Felipe eventually. Right? He had to. But he hadn’t worked up the courage yet. He’d planned on doing it right away, the next morning itself, but before he could get a word in edgewise, Felipe had ecstatically told him that the situation with his family had worked out, that they were coming to visit, that he was going to stay with them for 10 days.  
  
Truth be told, Neymar had been filled with relief. It was a reprieve, though a short one. It also allowed him an excuse not to have sex with Felipe just yet—he was way too guilty to sleep with him now. He couldn’t until he’d told Felipe the truth.

He wasn’t sure if they would make it through this. He tried not to think too much about it, but it was a constant little ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, invading his thoughts. The more he tried to distract himself, the more it invaded his mind—like smoke, grey and dark.  
  
As for Leo...  
  
Neymar should have spoken to him right away. The problem was, he’d put it off the first day. And then the second day... and suddenly it snowballed. Now it was 7 days later and he’d dodged at least five calls and four messages.  
  
The thing was, if he’d called the next day and pretended everything was okay, acted as if nothing untoward had happened, this would have blown over by now. But because he’d avoided Leo—now it was an Incident. With a capital I. He’d created a mess, all of his own making.  
  
Sighing, Ney nibbled on his thumbnail, fretting. It was just so _embarrassing_. Every time he remembered how he’d moaned, the things he’d said—oh _god_. He flushed hotly, burying his face in his hands.  
  
How could he _ever_ face Leo?

What embarrassed him even more was that it was one-sided. Neymar had come, Neymar had gotten hard, Neymar acted like a goddamn horny bastard—and Leo had been… well, untouched. It was _humiliating_.  
  
His phone buzzed and a girl from the next table sighed impatiently, flicking a glance at him. He smiled apologetically at her, making sure to show her that he was turning his phone on Silent, and then checked to see who’d messaged him. It was Geri.  
  
_Hey asshole where are u_  
  
Frowning, Neymar replied.  
  
N: _Library. What’s up?_  
  
G: _South Hall? Usual spot?_  
  
N: _Yeah you coming here?_  
  
G: _Yep be there in a bit_  
  
Neymar placed his phone down, furrowing his brow. He’d never ever seen Geri in the library, not once. They hadn’t been able to speak much lately—he’d only spoken to him a few times in passing over the last few weeks.  
  
Shrugging, he got back to studying. His thoughts were distracted and he had reread a paragraph for the tenth time when he heard the squeal of tires. He blinked and looked up, knowing full well what—or rather, _who_ —had made that sound.  
  
Sure enough, five minutes later, in walked Geri. It was only a two minute walk to Neymar’s corner from the entrance but it took Geri fifteen. He was stopped at nearly every table by people recognizing him and waving. He stopped and spoke to every single person, his manner easy and comfortable, used to being in the spotlight.  
  
When he finally meandered over to Ney’s table, immune to the black looks of the girl sitting next to them, Ney smiled at him, half-amused, half-exasperated.  
  
“Are you done? Anyone else you need to say hi to?”  
  
Geri grinned, running his hand through his hair. He pretended to look around. “No, I think I’m good. Do you wanna get a coffee? It’s just that I think this girl might kill you if you stay.”  
  
She audibly sniffed at that, her scowl even more pronounced, and Geri grinned at her, unashamed.  
  
Ney laughed, closing his book. He patted his pocket to check to see if his wallet was in there and then picked up his laptop bag, leaving everything (except his phone) behind.  
  
He smacked Geri lightly in the arm after the latter decide to waggle his fingers goodbye at the girl. She glared daggers at them both and Ney suppressed a smile. “She’s trying to study,” he said, trying to be stern.  
  
Geri shrugged. They went out into the cold, Ney shivering as they ran across the parking lot to Geri’s expensive car. He got into the car with relief and rubbed his hands together as Geri started the engine.  
  
“Want to heat up your seat?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Geri pressed a button on the dashboard and, within a minute, Neymar’s seat had gotten warm and toasty.  
  
He moaned in delight. “Heated seats! Oh man, will you marry me?”  
  
Geri grinned. “Join the line, baby.” And with that, he took off. He drove like a madman, as usual, temporarily jolting Neymar out of his dreamy heat-haze.  
  
By the time they arrived at a Starbucks about three minutes away, Ney was ready to start praying. Geri glanced over at him and snorted. “Don’t be a drama queen. It wasn’t that bad.”  
  
Neymar ignored him and made the sign of the cross. Reluctantly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and left the toasty car to dash into the Starbucks.  
  
Geri followed at his own pace, as if the cold didn’t bother him as much. He finally stamped his way into the door, waving at a few people he knew. Neymar glanced askance.  
  
“How do you know so many people?”  
  
Geri shrugged. “You meet a lot of people at games. It’s not really normal for a soccer team but we’re kinda famous.”  
  
Neymar tilted his head up as they moved to stand in line. He stared at the menu and murmured distractedly, “How come?”  
  
“Well, people like football better.” Geri, too, was staring up at the menu, hands jammed into his jean pockets. He grinned suddenly. “ _American_ football.”  
  
Ney smiled slightly. “No, I meant why is _your_ team famous?”  
  
“Oh, we’re unbeaten. It’s been like three years and no one’s won against us.” He said it matter-of-factly, no hint of braggadocio.  
  
“What position do you play?” Ney murmured. He didn’t truthfully care, was just filling the silence to be polite.  
  
Geri grinned, his eyes wide, looping an arm around his shoulder. “You’ve never watched us?”  
  
Neymar shook his head. He’d really meant to—in fact, he’d planned on going this week but now with the Leo thing... But, of course, now that he thought of it—it was weird that he hadn’t heard of it. Neymar frowned—was Dani being that humble or was he just an uninterested friend? The thought troubled him.  
  
He smiled a little apologetically up at Geri. “I will,” he promised. “Soon.”  
  
Geri nodded, dropping his arm. “You should come. Don’t miss out.” His eyes sharpened slightly, focusing on Ney. “You shouldn’t miss Leo play, it’s something else.”  
  
Ney shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve heard.”  
  
“No, I’m serious. He could have gone professional. He’s... incredible.”  
  
Neymar made a sound of agreement in his throat, turning away to look at the menu again, anxious to change the subject. He hadn’t forgotten how Dani and Geri had tried to get him and Leo together—he couldn’t trust Geri to not be playing a game, even now that he was with Felipe.  
  
They finally ordered their coffees and sat down in a little corner. Neymar shook his head in dismay, unable to take Geri’s drink choice: an ice-cold macchiato. “You’ll get sick. You _are_ sick.”  
  
“Yes, grandpa. Why don’t you be quiet and drink your tea?”  
  
Ney huffed. “It’s not tea!”  
  
Geri laughed, his eyes twinkling. For a few minutes, they sat in silence, sipping on their drinks. Periodically, someone would walk in and wave at Geri and he’d wave back. It was annoying because Ney had to keep turning to look over his shoulder, his heart accelerating for a second in fear.  
  
“I should have faced the door,” he grumbled after the sixth time it happened.  
  
Geri’s smile was infectious. But he sobered immediately. “Okay, so gonna come clean. I wanted to talk to you about something.”  
  
Neymar’s heart began to pound, but he simply nodded. He’d expected it, really. “Go for it.”  
  
“Okay, so I’m just gonna come out and say it.” His gaze was questioning as if asking Neymar if he was ready.

Ney took a deep breath, bracing himself. “Tell me.”

“Dude, _why_ aren’t you answering Leo?”  
  
It was as if someone shoved Neymar into a boiling hot bath. His skin heated and his cheeks burned. Shocked, he stared at Geri. “How do you—?”  
  
Geri looked troubled. “He asked me this morning if I’d heard from you. I told him I hadn’t really been talking to you lately but that I’d shoot you a text if he wanted. He said yes so I did.”  
  
Neymar clutched Geri’s sleeve. “Did you tell him I replied?”  
  
“He was next to me when I sent the message. He saw it, Ney,” Geri said not unkindly, his brows creased in a frown.  
  
Neymar groaned, guilt and horror overcoming him. He covered his face with his hands. “Fuck, fuck, _fuckkkkk_.”  
  
“Dude, what’s going on with you two?” Geri asked bluntly.  
  
Ney stilled. Then he pulled his hands off his face, staring at Geri. “He didn’t tell you?”  
  
Geri snorted. “Leo? Opening up? Betraying secrets? Talking about his feelings? Are you kidding? Have you _met_ Leo?”  
  
Relief poured over Neymar. “Thank God,” he said fervently, “thank God.” He hadn’t asked Leo to keep what happened between them quiet but he’d been squirming about that inside, worried he’d blab.  
  
Not that Leo was a blabber, or seemed that way—it was just that this was so _embarrassing_. He couldn’t bear the thought of people laughing about this behind his back. Not to mention—he hadn’t even told Felipe yet.  
  
Geri nudged Neymar, dragging him from his thoughts. “Dude. What’s going on? Tell me.”  
  
Ney shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. No. I can’t.” It hit him then that the only person he _could_ have told this story to was Leo--wasn’t that nice and ironic? A thought occurred to him. He looked up sharply. “How did he take it? When you told him that I messaged you back?”  
  
Geri’s eyes lowered. “He wasn’t great, man. I don’t like seeing him that way. You need to do something. You need to talk to him.”  
  
Neymar shook his head, miserable. “I can’t. I don’t think this can be fixed.”  
  
Geri looked stunned at that. “ _What_? Why?”  
  
Neymar rubbed his forehead, swirling his coffee cup around. “I don’t know. It just... sometimes I feel like my friendship with Leo, you know—it feels like it’s cursed. Like it’s never been normal even from the beginning. I just think... maybe it isn’t meant to be.”  
  
Geri narrowed his eyes. “Ney, this is not coming from the right headspace. Dude, you’re so upset about whatever it is that’s bothering you. That’s the reason you’re saying all this shit. You need to talk to him. He’s upset.”  
  
Ney felt his breath catching. He _hated_ himself for this, couldn’t believe he’d managed to hurt Leo like that. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I did a bad thing.”  
  
“Bad enough to end a friendship? But Leo wants to be friends!”  
  
Neymar shook his head repeatedly. He couldn’t look at Geri. “I can’t explain. I fucked up.”  
  
Geri was quiet for a few moments. “Listen, Ney. Leo doesn’t trust people very easily and he doesn’t make friends easily. He did with you, dude. Don’t wreck this because of pride.”  
  
“It’s not pride!” Neymar said fiercely. “It’s...” He slumped over, deflating suddenly, feeling defeated. “I don’t know, man, I think this time it’s beyond fixable.”  
  
Geri stared at him, his eyes worried. “Just tell me, man, I’ll fix it. I promise you, I will. Just tell me.”  
  
Ney shook his head, swallowing hard. His voice was flat. “No, man, you can’t do anything.” He paused, fighting tears. “It’s over.”  


 

* * *

  
  
_4 days later_

  
  
“Dani, I’m _not_ going.”  
  
Dani ignored him, rummaging through his closet for outfits. “Don’t you have any... like, athletic clothes, dude?” His voice sounded slightly muffled.  
  
Frustrated, Neymar watched him from his position at the edge of the bed. “Dani, I told you. I’m _not_ going to this game.”  
  
Finally, Dani seemed to hear him. He turned around. “Why?”  
  
Neymar stared at him, biting his lip. “Because.”  
  
Dani raised his eyebrows, waiting. They stared at each other in silence for about ten seconds. “Are you going to finish that statement or...?”  
  
Ney sighed. “Listen, man, I’m not... I don’t feel like hanging out with anybody. Okay?”  
  
Dani laughed. “Leo’s not going to be there. Get dressed.”  
  
Ney perked up immediately, but remained outwardly calm. “It’s not because of Leo!”  
  
Dani’s smile was gentle and mocking. “Mm. Just get dressed, will ya?” With that, he tossed a pair of track pants and a long-sleeved shirt at Ney before heading out of the room.  
  
Neymar rubbed his face. He didn’t want to let Dani win, but this made things easier. Leo had been the reason, of course, for Ney wanting to avoid this “football match”. It had been arranged for Felipe, initially, but he’d had to back out because of his family. It was basically supposed to be a fun game for a big group of them, to have a real football match, a mix of professionals and amateurs. Felipe had been excited about it for days.

When he’d found out he couldn’t go, Ney, who’d been planning just to watch, was asked to play. Ney refused. Then he was _told_ he was playing. He refused.

Naturally, no one listened.  
  
He’d repeatedly, vehemently protested for days but he’d been ignored consistently. He’d assumed that Dani had put it down to the fact that Neymar wasn’t interested in soccer, that he hadn’t guessed it was because of Leo. But now it seemed that he _had_ known. And yet, he hadn’t said anything?

That was so unlike Dani that Ney frowned, staring at the door. Unless—a thought struck Neymar just as he was about to unbutton his jeans. Immediately, he barreled out into the living room. Dani looked up, his expression turning exasperated when he saw that he still hadn’t gotten ready. “Dude—”

“No, wait. Is this—are you playing with me? Will he be there?” No point pretending this wasn’t about Leo; Dani already knew.

“Who?” Dani’s eyes were mischievous.

Irritated, his stomach in knots, Ney swore. “This isn’t funny, okay, Dani? Why is everything such a big joke to you? Can’t you just answer me?”

Dani’s eyebrows rose at Neymar’s tone. He lifted up his palms. “Hey, hey. I swear on _Joana_ that he isn’t going to be there.”

“Say his name and do it again.”

Dani laughed. “You really don’t trust me, huh? I swear by Joana and by mom and everyone else that Lionel Andres Messi Cuccitini isn’t going to be there.”

There was a small trickle of disappointment in the very recesses of his brain. As if he’d almost _hoped_ that he’d be tricked into meeting Leo. God, why was he like this? Shaking his head inwardly, he moved back to his room. “Cuccitini?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Dani called from the living room. “It’s his full legal name.”

Ney sat on his bed for a moment and swallowed emotion back. Of course he hadn’t known that. He’d barely known Leo, hadn’t he? Just a few months. And now he would never know Leo. The thought made his throat ache, his eyes burn.

God, why was he acting like this? Forcing himself up, he changed quickly. He grabbed his jacket and made his way back out to the living room. Dani looked up and then whistled in relief. “Finally! Let’s go, sexy.”

He jumped up, looping an arm around Dani. “Are you ready for the gooooood craaaaaazy?”

Neymar laughed at that, genuinely happy to be spending time with Dani. He didn’t like soccer, nor did he enjoy going out to play in the icy cold, but at least he got to be Dani. And all his other friends. It was good enough for him.

 

* * *

 

Of course, Neymar sucked. The good news was that he wasn’t the worst one on the team. By _far_. But he still sucked. This soccer business was harder than it looked. His feet didn’t seem to move the way the other guys’ did. Geri, especially, surprised him. He was smooth, tall, brilliant at headers. Dani was creative and zoomed around the pitch. Marcelo was so good that Neymar once stopped in the middle of the pitch to watch him.

That got him an earful from Dani and he began trotting again. They were playing only one half and by the fifteenth minute, he wondered if he was going to die. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He could only manage a burst of speed for about ten seconds before he lost to whoever was dribbling next to him. And it took him five minutes to recover from one run.

He shook his head. He’d always thought himself in shape. He worked out pretty regularly, he went to the gym, he lifted weights, he even ran. But this required a kind of athleticism and stamina that amazed him. After a while, he laid his hands on thighs, bent over at the waist, gasping for air.

“You okay?” an amused voice asked.

Ney straightened. It was Kun. “Hey, man,” Ney said, trying not to sound out-of-breath. “I’m good.”

Kun laughed. “It takes a while.” He jogged backwards next to Ney as the latter trudged through the pitch, irritated at his skill.

“You play, too?”

Kun’s smile was a brilliant white. “Yep. I’m on my team at my college. We get creamed by Messi and these guys, but we’re not that bad.”

“What position do you play?”

“Striker.”

Ney nodded. That was supposed to be a good position, he’d gathered over discussions. He was still not 100% sure what all the positions were. “How come you decided to come down?”

Kun shrugged. “I came to meet Leo, but he was busy. Since I was here, I decided to play.”

They stood side-by-side, watching as Kun’s team prepared to take a corner. Ney wondered if he should be doing something, but nobody called him over so he stood and watched gratefully, thankful that his lungs could relax a little.

Suddenly, Kun started to jog off, seeing something Ney didn’t. Sure enough, he scored a few seconds later and Neymar gaped. How had he known the ball was going there? Shaking his head, he went off to retrieve the ball—it had been kicked off into the thicket of trees behind the goalpost. He smiled slightly as Kun whooped, celebrating his goal, clearly rubbing it in Geri’s face. He also seemed to have the guts to stick his tongue out at Masche which Ney thought was really brave.

He purposely spent some time rooting around in the bushes until he found the ball and then placed it on the sidelines. They had extra balls so they were already back at play. He glanced around and then walked up to Dani.

“Can I go?”

He expected Dani to be angry, but he simply laughed and hugged Neymar. Ney hugged him back, surprised. Then, Dani signaled to the bench and some tall good-looking guy came on the field. Ney waved bye at Mats, promptly distracting him and causing him to concede a goal.

“You fucker!”

Laughing, he retreated immediately, going to the showers where he stood under the hot water, thinking about what Kun had said. The temporary amusement of annoying Mats had faded and now he felt a sickening feeling in his gut at the thought of Kun and Leo still talking. They were still friends, they were still going to hang out.

And Ney would never have that, not again. He hadn’t realised how much he missed Leo, how much he’d loved their daily texts, their calls, their meetings. How much he’d relied on Leo emotionally, even after such a short period.

Leaning against the cold lineoleum, he felt the sobs come up. And, there, in the silence of a smelly locker room, under cascading hot water, he cried about Messi.

 

* * *

 

They decided to go to Dani’s place after the game. Neymar would have loved to go home, but considering that Dani was his ride, he didn’t protest too much. He was allowed to ride shotgun, which helped some. He was feeling weirdly tired, his ankle throbbing. Of _course_ he’d managed to turned it, he thought ruefully. That was the kind of luck he had.

Since there was such a big crowd, they split into different cars: Geri’s, Mats’,Marcelo’s. By the time they all arrived, it had turned into something of a rowdy thing, music blaring so loud that Ney’s head hurt. He’d lost his appetite, somehow, and the sight of the greasy pizza made him feel slightly sick.

He sat in a corner of the room, scrolling morosely through his phone.

“This seat taken?”

Ney looked up at Mats, who was pointing at the chair next to Neymar. Ney shook his head, forcing a smile. Now he would have to make small talk. Great.

Mats sat down with a giant slice of pizza and bit into it with relish. Ney marveled at his appetite, feeling jealous, and then remembered that Leo had told him about athlete’s metabolisms and felt a sudden wrench in his stomach.

“Uh, do you know why Leo didn’t come?”

Mats shrugged, his mouth full. He swallowed. “Couldn’t tell you. I was pretty surprised he didn’t come too. Especially with Kun here.”

Ney stilled, his eyes sharp. “What do you mean?”

Mats wiped the grease off his mouth with a napkin, taking a moment to chew. “Well, you know, Leo and Kun…”

Ney felt his heart begin to hammer. “No. What about them?”

Mats looked surprised, as if this was common knowledge. “Well, they’re—”

“—Dating?” Neymar blurted, unable to control himself.

Mats pulled a face. “I don’t know if I would say they were _dating_ , but there’s something there. They’ve been _something_ for forever, I think. They’re both from Argentina, you know?”

Neymar shook his head, his lips numb. “Yeah?”

Nodding, his mouth full of pizza, he chewed. “They’ve been friends all their life. You know how it happens, right? Friends and then one day it changes.”

“And everyone knows this?”

“I think so? It’s like… it’s one of those things nobody talks about because it’s been going for so long. For as long as we’ve known Leo. They love each other. Wouldn’t be surprised if they got married and stuff down the line.”

Ney felt as if he was suffocating. “Why don’t they just come out and say they’re boyfriends?” he asked, struggling to remain calm.

“I mean, you know Leo, right? He’s so super private. Hard to get him to say anything. But everyone just knows. You look at them and you know.” Mats turned to him sharply. “You remember that time we were all watching a movie here? And they were sitting on the couch together? Remember how they were flirting and stuff?”

Neymar swallowed hard. He nodded, just barely.

“That’s them always. Always next to each other. Always right up against each other. Can’t be apart. Leo even almost chose to go to the same college as Kun.”

“Why didn’t he?” Ney asked, his voice thready. He was really starting to feel sick now. His ankle was throbbing incredibly bad, the pain radiating up his leg. He’d even started feeling dizzy, like he might vomit.

“Scholarship here was better. He couldn’t afford it.”

Ney nodded, letting Mats finish his slice of pizza. He could barely manage to say anything, feeling so ill so suddenly, he couldn’t understand ever reacting to something like this. Why was he having such a physical reaction? He tried taking a few deep breaths, but it didn’t make any difference—his head swam, his stomach churned and he began to sweat, the pain making him so dizzy, he could have vomited.

He stood up, unable to take it anymore. Without saying a single word to Mats, he plowed his way to the bathroom. Luckily it was open and free and he bent over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach immediately. Retching weakly, he sank to his knees, unable to stand up. He’d never felt so weak, so dizzy before.

He tried to get his bearings, tried to stand up, but his right leg was on fire. Walking this far had been excruciating enough—and it had only been sheer force of will (the desire not to throw up in front of people) that he’d managed it. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Suddenly, he realised that his face felt numb. Shocked, he brought his fingers up to his lips, feeling his face. He could barely feel them. Rubbing his lips together experimentally, horrified by the alien sensation, panic overcame him. What was _happening_? Was this a panic attack?

But he was getting dizzier and dizzier. His ankle was so painful, he could hardly rest his weight on that leg. He kept retching, his head lolling, unable to sit up.

“Here.” A hand thrust a glass of cool water in front of him and he took it gratefully, rinsing his mouth and spitting into the toilet. The hand came around him, holding him. Ney leaned against the warm body, his eyes shut, feeling profoundly safe for some reason.

The smell was familiar, but his head was so fuzzy, he couldn’t seem to put his thoughts together.

“Are you better, sweetheart?”

Neymar’s eyes flew open. He recognized that voice anywhere and, sure enough, his eyes locked onto Leo’s, holding him up, squatting on the floor next to him.

“Leo,” he moaned, turning his face away. “Go away.”

“No,” Leo said calmly. “Are you ready to get up?”

Ney nodded, beyond shame or pride. He was in so much pain. His leg hurt so badly, he wanted to whimper in pain. But he was not that far gone yet. Not yet.

Leo helped him up slowly, but as soon as Neymar put his weight on the ankle, he let out a cry, knees buckling. Leo caught him deftly, allowing him to lean heavily on him, expertly taking his weight, flushing the toilet with his other hand.

“I can’t walk,” Ney said, half gasping. His face was getting number. “Something’s wrong with my leg. And my face.”

“What’s wrong?” Leo’s voice was low and soothing, his hand rubbing up and down on Neymar’s back.

“My face. My face is numb.”

Leo’s grip on him changed, got tighter. He could see the look of fear pass quickly across Leo’s face and realised he was sicker than he’d thought. He’d never thought a panic attack could affect someone like _this_.

“What’s wrong?”

They turned to the doorway simultaneously, the sudden movement making Ney sway. Leo righted him and faced Dani, who was staring at both of them, eyes wide. His face was scrunched up in worry. “Dani, we need to get him to the hospital.” Leo’s voice was strong, firm.

“Alcohol poisoning?”

Ney was leaning more and more heavily on Leo. He could barely concentrate on the conversation, his eyes falling shut.

“No,” Leo replied. “I don’t know what this is, but we need to go to the hospital. Right away.”

Dani nodded. “I’ll find a car that’s not boxed in by the other cars. You’ll bring him down?”

“Yes, you go find a car.”

Dani left just as Geri popped up at the entrance of the bathroom. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“We’re taking him to the hospital. Something’s wrong.” Leo’s voice was calm, but Ney could feel the tension in his body. “Sweetheart,” he said, addressing Ney, “Can you maybe take a few steps?”

Geri came forward. “I’ll carry him.”

“No,” Leo said sharply. “No, I’ve got him.”

Neymar had closed his eyes for the last few minutes, but he opened them now, staring at Leo. Leo’s jaw was ticking, his arms tight around Ney, glaring at Geri.

Geri approached slowly, his palms out. “Leo, it’ll be easier for me. I can carry him really quick. I can do it. Let me. We’ll get him down faster. I won’t hurt him.”

There was a strained silence, Leo holding on to Ney so tightly it almost hurt, and Geri tried again, his voice gentle, persuasive. “We can get him down faster this way. Get him to a hospital faster. I won’t hurt him.”

Leo nodded, his expression hard. He tried to get Ney to stand more upright, to allow Geri to have better access. Geri bent over, scooping Ney up easily. Ney leaned his head against Geri’s shoulder and felt panic rise up inside him again. “Leo, Leo!” he cried weakly, his hand stretching over Geri’s shoulder.

Leo called from behind Geri, “I’m right here. I’m coming with you. Everything is going to be fine, okay?” He squeezed Ney’s hand tightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Everything is going to be fine.”

The last thought Ney had as he lost consciousness was that Dani had lied to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would just like to make a point about the last scene. it is not my idea but an inspiration from another book. i'll reveal the name of the book at the beginning of the next chapter, simply because i don't want to give away the plot (who knows, some of you might have read it) so just for the purposes of honesty, i'm just mentioning that here :)


	11. Hospital Stays and Betrayals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, children! this chapter is no good, i warn you now, i'm battling a cold and also pms (tmi, you say? i am unashamed) so this turned out to be shit. not to mention, cough syrup is v potent. also just as a heads up, the rating has gone up because of the phone sex chapter (i am late i know, ignore me) but as always, i am touched by all your lovely comments and nice thoughts. you guys are more than i deserve <3

“How’re you feeling today?” a loud cheerful voice asked, making Neymar jerk awake. The nurse switched on a light, flooding the room and making Ney squint in discomfort.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake ya?” he asked brightly, sounding not at all sorry. “Just checking in on you. How’d you sleep?”  
  
Neymar smiled sleepily at the nurse, a young guy with long sweeping eyelashes. He wondered how they were all so cheerful and happy all the time. “Great,” he croaked. He cleared his throat. “What time is it?”  
  
“7. Do you need anything? Any problems during the night?”  
  
Ney shook his head. “No, I feel great.”  
  
The nurse smiled, approaching the bed. “Well, that’s fantastic! How’s the ankle doing, huh?” He was close enough now that Neymar could read his tag: _Jay_.  
  
“It’s okay. Still painful but not so bad after the painkillers.” He watched Jay fuss with a machine on wheels. “Are you going to take my temperature or something? Or check my blood clotting?” There had been a lot of talk last night about his blood clotting. Ney hadn’t fully understood all of it.  
  
“No,” Jay grinned. “I’ll actually come by again a little later to take some blood for that. This is actually a blood pressure machine.”  
  
“Oh!” Ney exclaimed, feeling a little stupid. “Sorry, I should have realised,” he said, gesturing at the cuff.  
  
Jay’s smile was huge. “Oh, don’t even worry about it!” His hands moved deftly, smoothly fastening the cuff on Ney’s right arm. “It’s the morning, you haven’t even had coffee yet! I’m such a grump without my coffee!”  
  
Neymar smiled politely back. He knew Jay meant well, but all this forced cheerfulness made it so _awkward_. “Me too,” he confessed, going along with it. “Hate mornings.”  
  
Jay laughed. “Well, I’m sorry about waking ya!” He inflated the cuff, making it go extremely tight around Ney’s arm. He made a rueful face at Ney’s wince. “Sorry, I know it’s a bit uncomfortable. It’ll be done in just a little bit.”  
  
He slowly watched the machine, listening to his stethoscope carefully, then seemed to hear something and immediately released the pressure valve on the cuff. It deflated with a soft _whoosh_.  
  
“Is it okay?”  
  
“Oh yeah, you’re at 114 by 76, which is great!” Jay smiled at him, efficiently removing the cuff.  
  
Ney nodded, reassured, even though he had no idea what those numbers meant. He flexed his fingers, his arm tingling slightly. “Will the doctor come back around?”  
  
Jay nodded. “I’d say around 10? We’ll get you breakfast before then. Have you been going to the bathroom okay?”  
  
Ney nodded. “Yes.”  
  
“Perfect. So I’m just going to get you to relax a little bit longer and then we’ll come back and change your sheets. How does that sound?”  
  
Ney smiled politely. “Sounds good.”  
  
Jay flashed a smile and left the room. Ney leaned back against the pillows looking across the room at Dani, fast asleep on the couch. He smiled. Dani could sleep through a nuclear explosion, probably.  
  
He let out his breath in long soundless sigh, sinking further down in bed, reaching for the remote by the side of his bed. He pressed the red power button and began to watch _Arthur_ , comforted by the vivid colours, recalling long pleasant afternoons of watching _Arthur_ as a kid.  
  
His mind was distracted, constantly thinking of the visitors he would get today. Dani was here already—he’d spent the night with Neymar—but Felipe would come and maybe Geri and obviously Leo would! Excited and happy, he leaned back contentedly, imagining how they would make up—because of _course_ they would. He drifted back into sleep like that, a smile still on his lips.  


 

* * *

  
  
He was awoken a little later by Jay again. “Oops! Looks like I’m bad for your sleep!” he laughed heartily. “I brought your breakfast, though, so maybe you can forgive me!”  
  
Ney squinted sleepily, smiling in thanks. Jay patted his feet through the covers. “Anything else I can get for ya?”  
  
“When are you going to take my blood?” Ney croaked, sitting up.   
  
“Right now! I’ll come back with all the stuff.”  
  
“Okay. What time is visiting hours?”  
  
Jay glanced at his watch. “Another fifteen minutes or so.”  
  
Ney nodded his thanks, waggling his fingers in a bye, sitting up in bed, reaching for his plate. Predictably, Dani woke up.  
  
“Food,” he grunted.  
  
Ney rolled his eyes, pushing his plate towards Dani. “Come here.”  
  
Dani sat up, rumpling his hair. “Brush my teeth first,” he mumbled before heading to the bathroom.  
  
Ney grinned, helping himself to dry scrambled eggs. He made a face but kept eating—he was too hungry to complain.  
  
When Dani came back, Ney had finished munching and offered him the plate as Dani pulled up a chair next to him, looking fresh and more awake.  
  
“Coffee?”  
  
Ney wordlessly handed him his own cup. Dani sipped and then gave it back. “How’s the leg?”  
  
Ney nodded, looking ruefully at his own right ankle. “It’s fine.”  
  
Dani twisted in his chair, looking carefully at Ney’s face. “What time is your family coming in?”  
  
Ney plucked at his covers, not looking at Dani. “Okay, don’t get mad, but I didn’t tell them.”  
  
Dani blinked. “But why?”  
  
“Because Ma will have to take off work to come visit me and she’ll just get scared. And I’m fine now, I don’t want her to get stressed.”  
  
Dani looked at him steadily so Neymar went on. “Seriously, we can’t afford her taking off work. And if she knows, she’ll come for sure—I won’t be able to stop her. I don’t want that. She’ll be worried about the hospital bills.”  
  
Dani nodded. Insurance covered only so much. His face was careful. “Do you... need any help with that?” he asked quietly.  
  
Neymar shook his head fiercely. “No, I have some stored up from my summer job. I kept it for emergencies. If it isn’t enough, I’ll get a job. Don’t worry.”  
  
Dani looked worried, his face scrunching up a little. He nodded, patting Ney’s hand. “Okay, but if you need anything... Don’t hesitate to ask.”  
  
Ney nodded, grateful but knowing full well he’d never ask. How could he? Money ruined everything—it ruined friendships. And Dani was too rich to understand exactly how that happened. He didn’t even understand what it was like _not_ to have money.  
  
“What about Felipe?”  
  
Ney bit into his orange, answering with a full mouth. “He said he’ll come visit today.”  
  
Dani burst into laughter, surprising Neymar. “What?” he asked, pausing his chewing to stare at Dani in astonishment.  
  
“You made this face when I asked you about Felipe.” Dani pulled a face, mimicking Ney. “What’s that about?”  
  
“I did?” Neymar asked, astounded and a little embarrassed.  
  
“Yeah, you did!”  
  
Ney touched his face self-consciously, cursed himself. He shrugged. “Maybe I was thinking about other things,” he said easily but he knew Dani’s eyes were delighted.  
  
Neymar shook his head and wagged his finger at Dani. “Stop that.”  
  
Dani grinned, swiping up a piece of bacon and chomping rudely. “I’m not doing anything!”  
  
Neymar shook his head but couldn’t prevent the smile spreading across his face. Dani was incorrigible. He opened his mouth to say something when Geri flounced in the door. In his wake was Marcelo and, surprisingly, Mats. Dani stood, whooping.  
  
There was loud confusion for a few minutes as everyone came over to hug Neymar, hugging and shouting in his ear and the happy chaos almost distracted him. Almost.  
  
But his eyes couldn’t stop darting to the door. Finally, Geri noticed.  
  
“Who’re you waiting for?”  
  
Ney flushed red. “N-no one. What’s in the bag?” he asked, eager to change the subject, pointing with his chin at what Geri was holding in his hand.  
  
“ _I_ wanted to get you some porn, but Marcelo said we should get you fruit. Can you believe?”  
  
Neymar laughed willingly, ducking his head against Dani’s chest, content to watch Marcelo and Geri bicker loudly with each other.  
  
“Hey, guys, can we keep it down a bit? It’s just a bit loud in here.”  
  
They turned to the door as a group, all frozen at Jay’s polite, cheerful expression. Neymar fought a grin, nodding humbly. “Yes, of course. We’ll keep it down.” Jay winked in response and left.  
  
They looked at each other for a moment then burst into gales of laughter.  
  
But even as Ney wiped the tears from his eyes, he couldn’t stop his brain.  
  
_Where was Leo?  
_

 

* * *

  
  
When the doctors finally showed up for rounds, Neymar’s room was in a mess and stuffed full of jocks. One of the doctors paused at the door, looking bemused, then smiled. “Would it be all right if we came in to do our rounds?”  
  
Neymar nodded. “Guys, go.”  
  
They all shuffled out, beaming at the doctors, murmuring greetings. Neymar could see Dani hesitating, almost turning towards the door before Ney caught his arm. “No, you’re staying.”  
  
Dani’s smile was bigger and more grateful than Ney anticipated. He rubbed a hand quickly up and down Ney’s back before stepping aside, allowing the doctors to crowd around Ney.  
  
Instinctively, Ney’s eyes followed a short female physician, her eyes bright and bouncing, her demeanour confident. Somehow he felt she was in charge and, sure enough, she broke into speech.  
  
“Hi, there, Neymar. I’m Dr. Patel. We’re from Internal Medicine and this is the group of doctors I work with.”  
  
Neymar smiled politely at all of them, suddenly recognizing the resident who’d come to take care of him last night. His grin deepened. The resident grinned back, waggling a few fingers.  
  
“So, do you mind if I take a seat?” Dr. Patel, already pulling at a chair. “It’s just my back is killing me.”  
  
Neymar shook his head and Dr. Patel sat, her black, shoulder-length hair swinging forward. “So, of course, by now you know that you were bitten by a snake.” She looked questioningly at him and he nodded. She went on. “We were able to give you the antivenin early in the course of the symptoms because of a quick diagnosis, thanks to the work of our smart residents.” She flashed a quick smile at the resident who’d met Neymar yesterday—he beamed at the compliment. “You complained of numbness yesterday—do you have any of that today?”  
  
Ney shook his head. “No, I feel great.” He made a face. “Except for the leg. But I guess that’s normal?”  
  
She nodded with satisfaction. “Perfectly normal. You look great and the chart shows that your reflexes are much better today. Your labs look great too. So I think we’re doing really well.”  
  
Nervously, Neymar turned to her. “How soon can I go home, doctor?”  
  
“Well, today will be your last antivenin dose and then we’ll have to observe you for a few hours so maybe tomorrow.”  
  
He smiled, pleased. “What about my leg? When will it stop hurting?”  
  
She nodded. “Well, we can’t know for sure, but I’d say in a week or so you’ll feel as good as new.”  
  
“Okay,” he said. That wasn’t too bad.  
  
“Any other questions?”  
  
“Well, yeah. This might sound stupid but—“  
  
“—No stupid questions,” she cut in, smiling.  
  
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it’s just that how did it happen? _When_ did it happen? I mean, I’ve never heard of a snake bite in winter…”  
  
“Well, you did spend a large part of your day playing soccer outside, didn’t you?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but we played with the grass cut short. There wasn’t any snow or anything on the ground, you know? I would have seen a snake.”  
  
She pondered that, her eyes thoughtful. “I see. Did you happen to walk through tall grass or in bushes as you went to and from the field?”  
  
He shook his head, baffled. “No, I didn’t, I—” He stopped, struck. “I had gone to the bushes to get a ball back,” he finished slowly.  
  
Dr. Patel shrugged her shoulders, her hands spreading a bit. “Perhaps that was when it happened.”  
  
He blinked, still a little confused. “Well, why didn’t I feel the bite? And don’t snakes go into hibernation during winter?”  
  
Dr. Patel tilted her head. “I can’t explain why you didn’t feel the bite, except that maybe you were distracted, maybe you just didn’t notice. It sounds odd but it can happen.”  
  
“And the hibernation thing?”  
  
She nodded as if she was getting to that. “Well, they don’t exactly hibernate. What they do is something called brumation. It’s a tiny bit different. It’s been known for snakes to come out during warmer weather to get a little sun.” She smiled wryly. “Similar to humans.”  
  
Neymar shook his head. “I didn’t know that.”  
  
Dr. Patel laughed softly. “Well, do you have any other questions?”  
  
He shook his head, smiling shyly. “No. But thank you for all you’ve done for me.”  
  
Her lips quirked. She stood, reaching forward to shake his hand. “Always,” she said very warmly. She looked up then, smiling at Dani and after a few pleasantries, left with her group of residents. The one who’d met with Ney waved cheerfully at him. Ney grinned and waved back.  
  
He turned to Dani to exclaim in delight but Dani had already wrapped him up in a fierce hug. “Idiot,” Dani murmured into his hair. “Only an idiot gets bitten by a snake.”  
  
Surprised but touched, Ney didn’t say anything, just hugged Dani back who, after a moment continued grimly, “I thought you were done after the whole mumps thing. Who gets mumps in their twenties? But _no_ —” he said, drawing out the word, “—you had to get bitten by a _snake._ Of all the _asinine_ things—”

Neymar’s laugh cut into the lecture and he fell back onto his pillow, clutching his stomach, overcome, as Dani watched, shaking his head in disgust.  


 

* * *

 

When Neymar awoke that evening from a deep nap, eyes still closed, he felt disoriented and exhausted. He stretched and accidentally yanked on his IV, wincing at the pain. The back of his hand throbbed in pain and he gently rubbed the surrounding area, trying to self-soothe.

He was so distracted from the pain, it took him a minute to register that a hand was slowly sifting through his hair. Eyelids abruptly opening, he focused on Felipe’s tanned, handsome face.

“Hi, sleepyhead.” Felipe’s voice was low, soothing—his voice measured and comforting. “Sorry for waking you,” he whispered. “But if I didn’t wake you now, I wasn’t sure if I could spend any time with you.”

Neymar’s mouth was dry, but he tried to scramble upright. Felipe’s hand on his shoulder held him down. “No, lie down. What do you need?”

“Water,” Ney croaked.

Felipe filled a cup and returned to Neymar, helping him drink. The water was cool and delicious, slipping down Ney’s throat like a balm. Ney leaned back against the pillows, sitting up a little.

Felipe leaned down to kiss him and Ney kissed him back eagerly, keeping his mouth closed for fear of bad breath. Felipe pulled him into a hug, sitting on the edge of the bed and Ney sank into the embrace, feeling comforted.

“How did you let a snake bite you, silly?”

Ney’s shoulders shook in silent laughter, but he didn’t reply, too sleepy and content. Felipe ran his hands up and down Ney’s back, his breath warm on the nape of Neymar’s neck. He rubbed gentle kisses on Neymar’s temple, his earlobe, his hairline, his hair. Ney let his eyes flutter close, letting himself drift.

“Sorry I came so late. I only found out this morning and the drive was three hours.”

Ney shook his head, protesting sounds emanating from his mouth. He rubbed his cheek against Felipe’s sweater. “No, I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’m always here.”

 _No, you’re not_.

The thought, unbidden, dark, cruel, shocked Ney into opening his eyes wide. Where had _that_ come from? Uncomfortable, restless, he pushed back from Felipe’s chest, meeting his dark hazel eyes.

“I missed you,” Ney said firmly. He _had_.

Felipe kissed his forehead. “How are you? When do you get to go home?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Felipe nodded. “How are you getting home?”

When Ney’s lips parted in surprise, Felipe rushed on. “Of course, I would love to take you home, but I gotta go home tonight. Sorry, baby. It’s just that my family’s not around much, you know? It’s the first time things have been okay in a while. You understand?”

Ney nodded, pushing down the disappointment. Of _course_ he understood. Family came first. He knew that, of course. If the situation had been reversed, he would have done the same.

Probably.

 

* * *

  
  
By the next day, Neymar was antsy. He desperately wanted to go home. He’d finished his antivenin doses, been observed for the requisite amount of hours—couldn’t he go home by now?  
  
He asked all his nurses, but they shook their heads, only saying they’d ask the doctors to see what could be done. Thoroughly irritated, Neymar began to withdraw into himself, falling into a sullen, almost sulky silence.  
  
Dani seemed to understand. He treated Neymar gently, babying him, teasing him just a little, not too much. He forced him to eat, even when Ney snapped and protested. They watched movies on the tiny hospital TV—and more than anything else, this wound Ney down in a way none of the other things could.  
  
By nightfall, after he’d been reassured by the doctors that he’d go home most likely the next day (they just wanted _one_ more day to be absolutely sure), he had become calm and quiet, if still a little annoyed. They were watching _Shrek_ , a movie Ney had watched so many times, he knew most of the lines by heart.  
  
The only thing that distracted him was Dani’s constant, incessant texting. His phone lit up continuously, and his thumbs flew over the screen, as he alternated between smiling and frowning at whatever he was reading.  
  
“Who are you texting?” Neymar finally blurted out.  
  
Dani quirked a brow, looking at Ney. “Just some friends,” he answered vaguely.  
  
Neymar stuck his tongue out in response. (When else could he be childish if not with his friends?) He shrugged inwardly—if Dani wanted to keep it private, who was Ney to protest it?  
  
Dani laughed suddenly. “Guess what?”  
  
“What?” Ney asked distractedly, eyes glued to the screen. It was the scene where Shrek saved Fiona from the dragon—and Neymar _loved_ that scene.  
  
“Leo’s watching Shrek too! Isn’t that crazy?”  
  
It was as if Neymar’s heart plummeted into his body. He felt as if something had been internally wrenched, a heavy, dark feeling settling deep in his belly. He swallowed, smiling brightly. “You’re messaging Leo?”  
  
Dani nodded, staring at his phone. “Mm.”  
  
“You know, you lied to me,” Ney said, his voice sunny even as the hot stench of anger filled the room.  
  
Dani looked up, startled. “What?”  
  
Ney felt his smile growing—he knew it looked incongruous in this context, possibly frightening. He didn’t care. He felt strange, hot and cold, his heart pounding in his chest. There was a rush of blood in his head, a need to say something. No, not a need—a _compulsion_.  
  
“You said Leo wouldn’t show up that day. You promised.”  
  
“What day?”  
  
“Two days ago, when we played soccer. You lied to me,” Ney said jovially. Even so, his voice was too high, too loud; he was shaking. If he’d been standing, he might have collapsed. He wagged his finger, trembling. “You lied to me,” he sang.  
  
Maybe Dani knew, maybe he sensed a maelstrom approaching. Maybe he sensed Ney was losing control, about to snap. “Ney, listen to me,” Dani said urgently, leaning forward, his feet slapping onto the floor. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t know Leo was coming to the party. Just that he wasn’t coming to the game. In fact, he told me he wouldn’t come to anything! He said he was going to be busy all day.” Dani searched his face. “Man, I wouldn’t lie to you like that,” he finished quietly.  
  
Just like that, Ney felt sapped, drained. He nodded. Why was he fighting with Dani? The only person who’d stayed with him while he was sick, who’d slept on a couch without showering for two days for Ney? What was he _doing_?  
  
But Dani wasn’t done. He stood. “Ney, look. I’ll show you. He even messaged me that he wasn’t coming. See.” He perched on the bed next to Ney, angling his phone so they could both see. He had opened his Messages thread with Messi. And then he began to scroll up, searching.  
  
Dully, Ney watched, feeling hollow and almost broken. He watched Dani’s finger scroll up and up and up, past all the conversations he and Leo had had in a mere two days. He felt his stomach clench hard and knew it was not worth fighting for.

Knew something even more profound: that maybe there was nothing _to_ fight for.  
  
His hand came over to rest on Dani’s. “I believe you, Dani.”  
  
Dani searched his face, frowning. “Ney—“  
  
With every ounce of effort he had in him, Ney smiled so wide, it crinkled his eyes. “I swear to you, it’s not an issue. Not anymore. We’re cool.” It genuinely wasn’t a lie.

Because Neymar was officially done. Even as Dani slid off the bed back to the couch, his expression wary and a little disbelieving, Ney’s mind was working. He silently vowed that he would give his relationship with Felipe another go, a _real_ go. He wouldn’t let Messi come between them again.

Impulsively, he pulled his own phone out and texted Felipe.

_I miss you. Can’t wait to see you._

Felipe’s reply was perfect.

_I’m counting down the hours. Actually counting!!!!_

Neymar smiled, leaning back against his pillows, focusing on the movie again. He felt cheerfulness settle over him even as a small tiny butterfly of anxiety fluttered around his ribs. But he was determined.

He’d made up his mind.

 

* * *

 

_1 week later_

“Did you have your dinner?”

“Not yet,” Ney called back, scrunching his forehead as he glared at his Calculus textbook. Three-dimensional integration was going to murder his brain cells. Sighing, he tried again to plot the z line, erasing his mistakes, tongue slightly protruding from his mouth.

“You need a break.”

Neymar glanced up automatically at the doorway. Felipe was leaning against the doorjamb, smiling. He was wearing an apron and Ney marveled at his ability to even make _aprons_ sexy.

He persevered, however. Shaking a finger at Felipe, he firmly looked down at his book. “Be gone with you, demon. I need to study.”

“One hour,” Felipe wheedled. “Take a shower, change into fresh pjs and get some sleep. You can wake up early to study.”

Neymar grinned in triumph. “Aha! I already showered. Smell me.” He held out a sleeve, practically pink with glee.

Felipe obliged, straightening from the door, his face impassive. He moved to Ney, perching on the edge of the bed and made to smell his sleeve. But at the last minute, he diverted to Neymar’s neck, and breathed warm air right under his jaw.

Half-aroused, half-outraged, Ney squealed. Actually _squealed_. He squirmed even as Felipe moved quickly, flattening himself on Neymar. Ney blinked as the Calculus textbooks went flying, even his pencil. Too distracted by the sight of his notebook airborne, he didn’t notice he was now well and truly trapped under Felipe’s weight.

“Excuse me, sir, but what do you think you’re doing?”

Felipe was busy investigating Neymar’s neck. “Seducing you.”

Ney’s laugh was sudden, excited and breathless. “You can’t! I have an exam in two days.”

“And this will take ten minutes. Maybe twenty.”

“Or maybe an hour.”

Felipe moved up to look at Ney, assessing his response, gauging how tongue-in-cheek it had been. Seeing that Neymar was dead serious, his voice and eyes dropped. Gazing at Ney’s lips, he murmured, “Or maybe two.”

That was the deciding moment, wasn’t it? The moment to either back out or go in. As Ney stared up at Felipe, he found his heart pounding.

He’d made a true, conscientious effort to be a good boyfriend to Felipe this week. He hadn’t actually told him about the phone call with Messi yet, but things had been too good between them to wreck it. Felipe had been a star boyfriend, taking care of him, helping Ney move around as he recovered. He’d taken over the cooking and cleaning until Neymar had fully recovered, allowing him to study in peace.

Ney had changed too. He’d offered himself wholeheartedly. He’d been loving, giving, kind, affectionate. He realised now how much he’d held back of his heart. He knew he still had a ways to go, but they were on the road back to… to something. Something good, anyway.

So, remembering the promise he’d made to himself, he bunched Felipe’s sweater in his fingers, pulling at the material, pulling him down.

“Maybe all night,” he whispered just before their mouths met, before they kissed.

Felipe’s smile against his lips didn’t quite soothe the panic in his chest, but it went a long way to doing so.

 

* * *

 

Neymar stared at the ceiling in the darkness, mindlessly watching shadows chase each other in the night. He felt hollow, carved out—and dirty. His skin felt as if it was covered in a greasy film, as if he’d been dipped into mud and set aside. Filthy, rotten, empty, garbage.

He couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. He took in deep breaths as noiselessly as he could, mindful of Felipe fast asleep next to him. But it was no good. He was suffocating.

Rolling to his feet in one smooth movement, he moved quickly to the bathroom in the hall, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. He retched, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl, his abs clenching as he heaved.

When it was done, he flushed, wiping the sweat off his face. He felt nauseated and disgusted and _unclean_. He ripped his pjs off, a button pinging against the wall in his haste. He turned the water on and stood shivering in the cool air, waiting for it to heat. Trembling uncontrollably, he finally stepped into the shower nude, letting the hot water cascade over his brown skin.

It wasn’t hot enough. He turned the heat up, waiting for the cold inside him to vanish, but the frost persisted. He bent his head forward, letting the water sluice over his hair and stream into his eyes. And only then did the tears come.

He sobbed, scrubbing at his skin, the water turned up so hot it almost burned. He leaned against the cold tiles, ugly crying now, his mouth open and gaping, the corners of his lips turned down in a soundless wail, as he cried and cried and cried. He felt the ache of sobs in his throat, in his chest, in his stomach. It held him in a vice, squeezing and squeezing.

He was helpless.

He cried for minutes, perhaps, no more than that, but when it was done, he felt wrung out. It was useless.

He had failed.

 

* * *

 

He stayed up that night, mind restless, the anxiety so horrifying at times that it forced him to his feet, pacing it out, beating out the fear in the endless back-and-forth across his living room carpet. He both longed for and dreaded the sun rising in the morning, knowing full well what was coming.

He didn’t know when he finally dozed on the couch, but it must have been close to dawn because when Felipe shook him awake, eyes full of concern, Neymar felt wretched. His eyes gritty, breath foul, stomach already jumping, it took him a few seconds to understand why he was so upset and anxious.

Then he remembered.

He looked at Felipe’s face and burst into tears.

 

* * *

 

_18 days later_

“Do you have anything to eat?”

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I think. Or was that Chinese food?” Dani frowned, turning to Joana.

She shrugged. “There’s also some hummus, I think.”

Neymar nodded, his head already buried in the opened fridge. “I’m eating both!” he called, voice slightly muffled. They didn’t reply which he took as permission and pulled out the pizza first, mouth filling with saliva, suddenly ravenous.

He ate standing up like that with the fridge door still open, his mouth full, taking huge bites. When he had inhaled a slice in under 20 seconds, he closed the fridge door, stuffing the Chinese food in the microwave to reheat. Meanwhile, he dug into the second slice.

“Is this pineapple?” he shouted, slowing down enough to taste what he was eating.

“Joana likes it,” Dani called back. “Talk to her.”

“It’s healthy!” she said defensively.

Ney wanted to chuckle, but couldn’t stop himself chewing long enough to do so. When the microwave beeped, he pulled out the container with his hands, yelping as his fingers burned. Wrapping the bottom of his shirt around the base of the container, he picked up the last slice and made his way to the bedroom.

Dani shook his head. “You’d think you’d never seen food before.”

“Fuck off,” Neymar said around a mouth filled with pepperoni and pineapple. “This pizza is fucking delicious.”

Joana looked faintly disgusted by the sight of the half-chewed food in his mouth and turned her face away. He grinned, slowing down a little.

He plopped down on the couch, frowning when he saw the cardboard box in the corner of the room. Feeling suddenly full, he set down the slice. “He hasn’t taken his stuff yet?”

Dani glanced at the cardboard box. He shook his head. The silence was strained and, to give himself something to do, Neymar picked up the pizza and bit into it, chewing with more effort than interest. He studiously avoided looking at the box but found his eyes drifting there.

Felipe had disappeared after that morning. He hadn’t replied to any of Neymar’s messages or calls. Ney couldn’t understand it, really. They’d broken up in a fairly decent way, with good feelings on both sides. Perhaps the timing had been bad—breaking up right after you fucked someone wasn’t a balm to anyone’s ego.

Even now, the thought of their sex made Ney’s skin crawl. He couldn’t understand his visceral reaction to it. It had been good. He had come. So had Felipe. It had been passionate, pleasurable. Felipe was _hot_. The sex was hot. Everything about it seemed to make sense.

But afterwards, Ney had felt sick, disgusting… awful. It had been like—

Shaking his head, he forced himself to stop thinking about it. It was in the past. He had finally, _finally_ gotten over Felipe, finally ended that chapter of his life and he wasn’t going to dwell on it. It certainly wasn’t Felipe’s fault—he hadn’t even done anything wrong. It was something within Neymar, some… inability to trust Felipe, an inability to really give himself to Felipe wholly, completely.

Perhaps the anger at Felipe’s first betrayal had never really gone away. Nothing else really made sense. The truth of it was, Neymar’s heart had never trusted Felipe in the way that Neymar’s mouth had claimed to. Felipe had been Neymar’s boyfriend in name only. He’d punished Felipe by holding back—and that wasn’t fair to either of them. Sex had made that clear in a way that nothing else had.

Anyway, Neymar was done with dating. Boys—and girls—could go to hell. He was going to focus on the rest of his semester, have fun, be young and enjoy life.

YOLO and all that.

“—and I could come pick you up after I drop Leo off at the airport.”

Neymar’s ears pricked. “What?” he blurted, interrupting Dani’s conversation with Joana, arranging his face into a casual, unstudied expression after Dani’s amused eyes turned to him. “Uh…” he said, nonchalantly chewing, “Messi going somewhere, is he?”

“Yeah,” Dani drawled, his eyes dancing.

Irritated, fighting the urge, Neymar stared at the TV. Unable to control himself, a second later, he turned to Dani. “Where’s he going?”

Dani was grinning unabashedly. “Rosario. His hometown,” he clarified when Ney’s expression turned puzzled. “Argentina. For spring break. Do you want to know how long he’s going for?” he asked, his eyes very innocent.

Neymar glared at Dani while Joana laughed softly. “If you want to tell me,” he said through gritted teeth.

Dani’s answering smile was very cheerful. “Oh, I do. He’s going for three weeks—he’s taking an extra week off. Missing his family.”

Neymar nodded shortly, turning back to the TV, stuffing the Chinese food in his mouth. It felt tasteless and greasy in his mouth—he forced himself to chew nevertheless. So Leo was leaving for three weeks and he hadn’t bothered to tell Neymar?

His brain seemed to scream in reaction. _Why should he tell you anything? You haven’t spoken in a month_!

No, they hadn’t. Leo—no, not Leo, _Messi_ —hadn’t even bothered to come visit Neymar in the hospital. What kind of asshole did that?

Furious and hurt, he chomped down on the rest of the Chinese food, reaching for the remote. He turned the volume up high and forced a laugh as the laugh track played in the background.

He was done.

_DONE._

 

* * *

 

Somehow, his anger only escalated as the hours passed. By the time he got onto the bus to go home, he was frothing. Seething, he dropped down into the seat, glaring at a baby so fiercely that the little toddler stuck out its lower lip in the beginnings of fear.

Feeling a little bad at the way the mother glared at him, he glanced away, trying to school his expression into something a little more neutral. Twice, he opened his texts to Messi to send him a curse-laden message, but each time stopped at the sight of all the unanswered messages Leo had sent him the week after that phone call.

Squirming in a weird combination of guilt and rage, he told himself he wasn’t to blame. Okay, so he hadn’t picked up Messi’s calls and replied to his texts. But when someone went to the hospital, the _decent_ thing to do was to at least ask them if they were okay.

Not once— _not once_ —had Messi inquired. Not _once_.

Even after Neymar had basically begged him to come with Neymar to the hospital, Leo had disappeared almost as soon as he’d dropped Ney off to the ER. Like he was just _itching_ to get rid of him, like Ney was some responsibility he had reluctantly shouldered.

Where did he get off? Who did he think he was?

Full of righteous anger, he didn’t even realise he had pulled for a stop until his feet were already moving to the doors. Exiting the bus, he looked down the street to Messi’s apartment building. He stood there, debating, turning back and forth a few times, causing an elderly woman at the bus stop to clutch her bag even tighter to her person. Then, finally, swearing, he made his way to Messi’s apartment.

His heart pounding, sweating, he slipped inside the front doors, wondering how he was going to get past the buzzer. Luckily, a middle-aged woman was leaving the building just as he was entering, holding the door for him with a smile. He slipped inside, too angry to smile back. He punched the button for the elevator, fuming.

That pale fucker. He was going to deal with him.

He stepped inside the empty elevator, pressing the button for Messi’s floor. It seemed to take a long time to get there, and, by the time the elevator dinged for his floor, his stomach was in knots. Doubt was creeping up his spine, the confidence rage had given him slipping away. His feet began to slow as he approached Messi’s door.

What was he _doing_?

He’d lost his mind surely. How could he just come to someone’s door like this so late at night? Someone he hadn’t spoken to in ages? Someone he hadn’t even been friends with for very long? Had he lost his brain cells? Standing outside the door in indecision, he shook his head, his anger fading as fast as it had taken hold of him.

Making a snap decision, he turned to leave just as he heard the voices inside the apparment approaching the door. Eyes widening in horror, he took a half-hearted step away but it was too late.

Messi opened the door, still laughing over his shoulder at someone behind him, and then stopped in mid-movement, his mouth stretched into a smile.

They stared at each other for one horror-filled second before the amusement leached out of Messi’s face abruptly, a blank, cold expression replacing it. “Geri’s not here,” he said shortly. He stepped aside as Kun moved into view, the latter’s expression turning from confusion to surprise.

“Hey, man! Long time. How you been? Heard you got bit by a snake!” Kun said jovially, moving past Messi to clap Neymar’s shoulder.

Ney nodded, forcing out a smile, his mouth unwilling to make a sentence. Kun squeezed his shoulder, continuing, “Can’t stay to chat, I’m so late, but we’ll definitely catch up the next time I’m in town, huh?”

Neymar inclined his head. “For sure. Bye,” he said woodenly.

Kun leaned forward, giving Messi two air kisses and a hug, the two murmuring in Spanish, before he waved cheerfully and disappeared into the stairwell, his running footsteps echoing in the silent hallway.

Neymar waited, trying to calm down, his breathing coming out almost in pants. He turned very slowly back to Messi, his mind whirling, the rage so black and so potent, he almost wondered if his eyes had turned red. His hands fisted at his sides, he fought to regain control when Messi raised his eyebrows very coolly and said, “Well, if that’s all…?” He made to close the door.

It was the last straw.

Without thinking, Neymar stuck his foot out, catching the door before it shut.

He pushed the door open with surprising strength, causing Messi to stumble a little, and Ney stepped over the threshold. It gave him a savage satisfaction to see Messi finally looking a little wary.

And, without hesitation, Neymar reared back and punched Messi with all his strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> la la la. okay so, before i forget, the whole snake bite thing was inspired by a very lovely book called 'secrets of a summer night' by lisa kleypas. if historical romantic fiction is your thing, then give it a go! the scene stuck in my mind simply because the combination of medicine and romance and illogicality (is that a word?) tickled me to death. but again credit is all hers :) 
> 
> also i tried to do the snake bite justice but i'm not sure if i went the opposite direction and overwrote it. it was a difficult line to ride. brumation is wild, though, so if you're into science, i suggest reading it up for fun! 
> 
> also i know i'm evil for ending it on a cliffhanger, but i embrace evil. it is my bitch. :) LOVE YOU LONG TIME, MY SWEET KIDS!! <333


	12. The Punch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi frands!! nothing to add except that you're all delightful and i hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Later, Neymar would marvel at how Messi made no sound. Instead, he doubled over instantly, hands clutching his stomach, crumpling a little, all of it happening in utter silence. The vacuum of sound was even more apparent against the sharp contrast of the preceding loud moments, the blunt _thud_ of Neymar’s fist hitting Messi’s flesh, the door bouncing off the wall from the force of Ney’s pushing it open. 

And Neymar wanted to walk away. He really did. He even turned around, even took a half-step away but he found himself frozen instead, unable to move. Cursing fluidly, running a quick hand over his face, he finally moved to stand next to Messi. 

He bent over Messi, his left hand (the one he hadn’t used to punch Messi) coming to rest gingerly, hesitantly, on Messi’s back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered frantically, almost involuntarily, panicking slightly at Messi’s silence. “Are you okay, are you okay?” 

Messi’s eyes were squeezed shut but his hand came up, fisting into Ney’s sweater, holding him tightly, almost like an anchor, the other arm still pressed against his own belly. “Wait,” he gritted out, teeth clenched. “Don’t move. Don’t speak.” 

In response, Neymar held so still he practically held his breath. He rubbed Messi’s back almost unconsciously, unaware of his actions, watching Messi’s face stay red and tense, his eyes staying closed. 

Ney wanted to say a million things, but his mind just kept screaming unintelligibly at him. Only one thought penetrated the chaos, the maelstrom of emotion, possibly the most dangerous thought of them all, frightening in its crystal clarity: _you’ll never get him back now._  

It echoed in Neymar’s mind, setting off a domino effect of anxious thoughts, each one worse than the one before. What was he going to do? What would Geri do? What would _Dani_ do? Was he going to lose Dani too? 

He swallowed at that, panic rising so quickly and so powerfully that it almost felt like it was choking him, suffocating him. He couldn’t—he _couldn’t_ do this. He couldn’t stand here and watch as his life fell apart around his ears—he just couldn’t. 

He tried, though. He tried taking deep breaths, tried to tell himself that it was better to stay, but he was well and truly gone, past the point of calming down, close to hysteria. He tried half-heartedly to wrench away from Messi’s hand, the hand holding onto his sweater—and was surprised to find he’d somehow managed, that he’d somehow gotten free. Perhaps Messi had been so focused on his pain that he’d let his hand go slack. Neymar moved quickly to Messi’s front door, the only thought in his mind that of _escape_. 

He had his hand on the doorknob before Messi caught up to him, the speed of his movements so silent and so quick it left Neymar gasping. Messi didn’t even have to touch him to stop him; he simply slammed his hand against the door, right next to Ney’s head, the sound and movement stunning him into stillness. 

For a few moments, they didn’t move, remaining frozen in their positions: Messi behind him, Neymar facing the door, feeling the heat of Messi’s body, the heat of his anger penetrating Ney. His heart was already in palpitations but it picked up the pace, pounding so hard he wondered if he was going to die of a heart attack.

He waited for Messi to say something, _anything_ , but Messi stayed freakishly quiet—somehow more frightening than if he’d spoken, somehow more threatening. Neymar couldn’t even hear Messi _breathe_ over his own pants. But that woke him up—it was only that, the moment Neymar heard his own harsh breathing in the quiet of Messi’s front hallway, that he knew he had lost. 

He pressed his forehead against the cool wood, exhausted, feeling comforted by it on his burning skin, dread mounting inwardly. He closed his eyes, steeling himself, knowing it was time to face the music before finally turning around to look at Messi. 

Messi’s hand remained next to his head, but otherwise he didn’t move, didn’t back up—in fact, he moved a little closer. He used his body to crowd Neymar, standing very close, perhaps only a few inches away, and he seemed larger than life, looming, his entire body one tense, angry line. 

Messi’s face was still red from the pain (and possibly his fury) but his eyes were glittering and black, flashing. 

“At _least_ ,” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse, “Have the courage to own that punch. Don’t run away.” He waited one second before adding cruelly, “Like you always do.” 

Ney’s heart held still for one second, almost as if it couldn’t believe Messi had been so cruel—and then he felt it begin to thump again, harder and actually painful in its new intensity. He should have been afraid, maybe, but he felt exhilarated, high on passion (and a little guilt)—but mostly anger now. 

(Besides, he’d take angry Messi over that other Messi any day—the one who would close a door on his face.) 

“Fuck you,” he spat. “Who are _you_ to talk? _You’re_ the one who’s leaving!”

For a second, a look of confusion passed across Messi’s face, almost comical if Ney hadn’t been so angry. “I’m going on vacation,” Messi said slowly, sounding as if he genuinely couldn’t believe his ears. “I haven’t decided to stop responding to texts and calls because I’d rather not deal with confrontation.” 

Neymar’s hands fisted at his sides at that. Well, if Messi was going to be nasty, then so could he. “You are _such_ an _ass_ , you know that? You act like you’re so _perfect_ , like you’re innocent all the time. A fucking martyr, aren’t you? Like _you’ve_ done nothing wrong here!” 

Messi narrowed his eyes. “Can you _please_ explain what in the fuck I did wrong?” His voice was silky-soft, infuriating in its calm—and so condescending in its certainty that Ney longed to punch him again. 

Except, this time, he thought savagely, he’d punch Messi’s _face_. 

“You’re _leaving_! And you didn’t even tell me!” Ney almost shouted, the force of his words surprising even himself. 

Messi went very still. He took a moment before he moved in just a little closer, betraying nothing else but that tiny hairsbreadth of movement as his reaction. “So?” he asked, voice very low.

Neymar felt his eyes widen, felt something dark and painful threaten to rise in his chest. The implications of that question… He chose anger instead. “ _So_? You _don’t_ think I deserved to know? You don’t think you should have _told_ me?” 

Incredulity infused Messi’s words. “ _Tell_ you? How? How should I have contacted you? Did you forget you weren’t taking my calls? Did you forget,” he continued, his voice dropping rather than rising, the words firming in Messi’s mouth, dark and dangerous and so, _so_ angry, “that you were ignoring me? Did you _forget_ that the first time you saw me after a week you said ‘go away’?” 

Neymar blinked. “No!” he interrupted. “I never said that!” 

“Yes,” Messi hissed, “you did. You were _throwing_ up, and your first reaction was _still_ to tell me to fuck off.” Briefly, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Messi’s fingers spasming next to Neymar’s head, but then they relaxed again.

“No, no,” Neymar cried, shocked into remembering. He’d _forgotten_ saying that and he hadn’t really meant it, not really, not truly, it was just one of those things you said when you were mad at someone, he hadn’t thought of what it would look like to Messi, he hadn’t been feeling well, he was throwing up for God’s sake, he didn’t mean it, he didn’t he didn’t he _didn’t_ — 

“Yes. Yes, you said that. You said it was—” there was a tiny pause, barely noticeable, and Messi’s voice got even quieter, “—over.” 

Neymar gasped in reaction, unable to control himself. “No, I _never_ —" 

“Yes,” Messi lashed out. “ _Yes_.” His eyes were so black, Neymar couldn’t even make out the irises anymore, passion and fury making him go quieter and quieter. “You told Geri that. You told him it was _over_. So actually the question I should ask isn’t _how_ I should have told you but _why_ you deserved to know at all.” 

Neymar felt himself shake. But still, he couldn’t help himself: “You’re acting like you’re innocent in all of this! Like you’re the victim! _You_ never came to the hospital, never came to visit me!” he accused, his voice echoing in the front entrance of Messi’s apartment. The quieter Messi got, the louder Neymar got. “You never even called, you could have messaged, you didn’t _care_ , you don’t _care_ about me—” 

The anger and pain of those days overcame him again and he pushed against Messi, who stumbled a little. “You never _cared_!” Again and again, he slammed his palms against Messi’s chest until finally Messi clamped his hands on Neymar’s wrists, pushing him back. He held Ney’s hands firmly on either side of Neymar’s head, pressing him against the door, jerking him as if to wake him up. 

“Stop that, stop!” Messi hissed. “ _Stop_ that, Neymar. You do that one more time, you put your hands on me again, and I’m throwing you out. Use your _goddamn_ words.”

Ney was trembling, hurt and angry and close to tears. He was so, _so_ tired, but he raised his chin defiantly. “You didn’t come. You didn’t _come_.” His chin was wobbling but he stared straight at Messi. “You are a _bad_ friend,” he said, trying to match Messi’s quietness but knowing he was still too loud.

Messi’s expression darkened, his jaw firming, mouth thinning. He let go of Neymar’s wrists with a warning look, but stayed close, didn’t retreat. “I want you to listen to me. For _once_ , just _listen_ to what I’m saying,” he said, enunciating each word very carefully. “I took you to the hospital.” He paused, his eyes searching Neymar’s. Barely audible, he continued, “It’s all I did. It’s all I felt I _could_ do. Because _you_ made it clear that it was all I had the _right_ to do.” He waited, his eyes unwavering, and then added, “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” 

The accusation fell like a cloak around Neymar’s shoulders. For some reason, those words penetrated his consciousness the way nothing else had. He felt as if someone had sucker punched _him_ , as if all the breath had been knocked from his body. He’d heard of people talking about thunderbolts of realization and finally understood what they meant. 

Messi made to step back, but Neymar caught his shirt and Messi stayed, their eyes meeting again. 

“You really thought that?” Ney whispered, stunned. “You really thought you didn’t have the right to come see me anymore?” 

Messi swallowed, the first sign of an emotion other than anger. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to.” He hesitated, then continued, “I wouldn’t lie.” 

No, he wouldn’t. Of course, he wouldn’t. Neymar felt sick, his knees weakening, stomach swooping in nausea. “I-I need to sit.” 

Messi immediately helped him slide down the door, an arm around Neymar’s shoulder, supporting him until he was seated on the floor, leaning against the front door. Messi knelt next to Neymar. “Do you want some water?” he asked softly, his head bent close to Ney, already making to get up and go get something. 

Ney shook his head, holding on to Messi’s shirt. Messi waited, still kneeling, silent, his face in shadow. Neymar focused on his breathing, trying to work up the courage. Finally, he took a deep breath and plunged in. 

“I-I-I’m sorry.” His fingers tightened in Messi’s shirt, twisting, hopelessly crumpling it. He looked down, unable to meet Leo’s expression head on. “I never… I didn’t think.” 

Messi shook his head. “You never do.” The words were harsh but his tone less so. 

“I think—I think it was so embarrassing—” 

Messi pressed a hand to Ney’s chest, urging him to silence. “We don’t have to talk about that.” 

“But we _do_ ,” Neymar said earnestly, flushing despite himself. “It’s not—I mean, we don’t have to talk about it exactly, but I shouldn’t have avoided you. I was just so… _embarrassed_ , so _humiliated_ that I thought I had no other option but to avoid you forever.” 

Messi was silent, his expression still slightly forbidding, but his hand had stayed on Ney’s chest, warm and anchoring and comforting rather than threatening. He simply waited, his silence more reassuring than if he’d actually spoken. It gave Ney courage; he took a deep breath, eyes closing for a second before fluttering open again. 

“But you should have—I wanted you at the hospital so much. I _needed_ you.” His voice caught and, embarrassed, he looked down. There was no reaction to that from Messi, except his thumb moved just once on Neymar’s chest, one warm swipe against Ney’s sweater. “I was very… I was scared. I wish you had come. B-but I understand why you didn’t.” 

Ney looked up finally, his throat aching in emotion. “I’m so sorry for everything. I fucked up.”

Messi’s hand finally dropped away. It left Neymar feeling slightly cold, actually, _physically_ cold. 

Messi sat down against the wall to the right of Neymar, at a right angle to him, their knees bumping. He let out a long sigh and then started talking, looking exhausted and drawn. “Ney, I don’t make friends easily, but I did with you. I don’t even use Snapchat except with you. Dani’s been trying to get me to download it forever, but I did it only for you. I make friends for keeps and that goes for you too. 

“But you gotta use your words. You can’t do this anymore. We’re adults now; we’re in college. You gotta have faith in me and Dani, you gotta have faith in yourself. We’re friends for life—it’s time you understood that.” 

Ney nodded, too overcome to say anything, to even fully absorb what Messi was saying. But he stored up the words to glory over them later. Right now, he felt too sick, knowing how close he’d been to losing Messi—all over stupidity. _His_ stupidity. “I just—I lost my mind. I was so _mad_. I’ve never been that angry before.” 

Messi simply looked at him. “How’s your hand?” he asked quietly. 

And that’s when he felt the pain. Blinking at the sudden realization that his right hand throbbed like a motherfucker, he looked down at his knuckles. “It’s okay,” he lied. 

Ney unconsciously rubbed the knuckles of his right hand, trying to rub away the pain. When he noticed Messi’s eyes watching, he forced himself to stop. They sat in silence, embarrassed and still awkward. “How’s your stomach?” he asked, flinching a little. 

Leo shrugged. “It’s not the best,” he said, smiling humourlessly.

“I’m really sorry,” Ney whispered, feeling wretched. “I haven’t—I haven’t been myself lately.” 

Messi waited patiently (as always) and Neymar took a deep breath, plunging into speech. It was always the same way with Messi; he could tell him things he hadn’t told anyone. “It was everything. The pressure of being with Felipe and then that _phone call—_ ” here Neymar reddened but persevered “—and it—it was just a lot. And I was worried about losing my scholarship and I was scared that Dani and I would fight again. I didn’t think it would get so out of control.” Miserable, he glanced at Messi. “it just kind of snowballed on me.” 

Ney took a deep breath, knowing that what he was saying was immensely embarrassing. “The hospital bills have been a lot. Insurance only covers so much of it and now most of my summer savings is gone and I’m going to have to get a job in the middle of exams.” He shook his head, feeling the stress hit him again. “But the last thing I want to do is make excuses, I _don’t_ want to make excuses. I know I didn’t handle it well. I just—I want to explain what was going on in my mind.” 

Messi nodded, saying nothing. His face was closed again and Ney searched his expression. “Are we… are we okay?” he asked hesitantly. 

Messi smiled very slightly, pressing his knee into Neymar’s for a second. “Maybe.” 

Neymar smiled back, relief flooding through him. He’d take it. He’d just _punched_ the guy. The fact that Leo even wanted to _talk_ to him was good enough for Neymar. 

They fell back into a silence until Ney blurted out, “When do you leave?” 

“Tomorrow. Dani’s dropping me to the airport.” 

“Can I—” Flushing, Neymar stopped. 

Leo’s eyes focused on him. “Yes, you can come to the airport. It’s an early flight, though. You sure you up for that?” He dropped his head back against the wall, tilting slightly to keep Ney in his vision. 

Ney smiled, his eyes drawn to the little crinkles around Leo’s eyes. “How early?” 

“I have to be at the airport by 5:30 a.m.” 

Ney felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. “Oh. Yeah, okay, I’ll come.” 

Leo’s laugh surprised him. “You don’t have to. I’m not gonna punish you like that. Stay home—we’ll see each other in a few weeks.” 

Ney sobered at that, feeling absurdly sad that Leo was leaving. He shook his head inwardly—when had he gotten so attached? Why hadn’t he realized how much Leo meant to him? He forced a smile, noting how tired Leo looked. “I should go. It’s late and you need to go to bed.” 

Leo’s eyes were faintly amused. “Not to mention Geri’ll be home soon. And if he sees you here…” 

Neymar yelped, scrambling to get on his feet. “God, no way. He’ll think I’m here to suck your dick or something.” His eyes caught Messi’s at the end of the sentence and blood immediately rushed to his face. Looking away, he murmured, “Well, I hope you have a great vacation and make sure you message me when you get some decent network, okay?” 

Leo’s smile was lopsided as he leisurely, gracefully got to his feet. “Come, I’ll walk you to the elevator.” 

Ney nodded and Leo grabbed his keys, shutting the door behind them as they walked quietly by each other, the awkward tension still between them, the aftermath of their fight. Ney caught himself staring at Messi when he wasn’t looking. He seemed calm, if a little pensive, though Ney had never been very good at reading him anyway. 

Ney punched the button for the elevator and then turned impulsively to look for Leo. He was leaning against the opposite wall, one knee bent, right foot pressed against the wall. Neymar stood staring, feeling slightly emotional, exhausted, all his feelings open and bare between them. He was very conscious of the fact that most of the conversation had been one-way, that he knew very little of how Leo had dealt all these weeks, of how Leo was feeling right then. 

But he wasn’t going to press—he didn’t quite deserve Leo’s confidences just then. 

Leo raised his eyebrows at him. “What?” 

“I missed you.” 

Leo took a moment before he smiled, his eyes searching Neymar’s. “Good,” he said lightly, his eyes crinkling a little. 

They stood like that for a long moment, smiling at each other, before the _ding_ sounded behind Neymar. “It’s here,” Leo murmured. 

Ney hesitated. “I don’t want to go,” he said over a breathless laugh. “I just got you back,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing at how vulnerable he was being. He’d regret this tomorrow for sure. 

Leo’s laugh was genuine. He straightened from the wall, walking to the open elevator even as Neymar got in, standing just outside. “Well, I’ll be back soon.” 

Ney pressed the ‘L’ for Lobby and smiled at Leo, feeling wistful and slightly incomplete. He knew they weren’t okay yet, not fully, not completely. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all. “Have a good vacation.” 

Leo didn’t say anything, just deepened his smile a little in response. They stood like that as the doors began to close when, suddenly, Messi moved forward, thrusting a hand between the doors. They grinded to a halt before reopening. Leo leaned into the elevator entrance, his hand against the door to keep it open. Ney watched with widened eyes. 

“Just so you know, I thought of you all the time when you were sick. I asked Dani and Geri how you were doing every single day you were in the hospital.” His voice reverberated around the elevator, almost echoing in Ney’s ears. “And I still ask.” His eyes were hard on Ney’s hazel ones. “Don’t think I don’t care about you. I do.” 

And, with that, Leo stepped back. They stared at each other, Neymar too shell-shocked to say anything. The last thing Ney saw before the doors finally closed was the faint colour in Messi’s cheeks.

* * *

Fucking mornings. Bleary-eyed, Ney fought to stay awake, yawning widely as he got off the bus. He shivered in the wintry air, squinting to look around. It was deserted but who else would be out at this hour?

Idiots, that’s who. Grimly, he trudged through the snow to Dani’s apartment, his face frozen and in pain from the bitter wind. He stamped his feet in the front lobby, shaking off the snow and buzzed Dani. 

Dani let him in without Ney having to say anything—Ney assumed he’d seen him through the video monitor. The elevator was empty and ready for him as he punched in Dani’s floor, leaning against the side wall and yawning hugely. 

Fucking friends and fucking mornings. Who needed them? Cranky, he got off the elevator and stamped towards Dani’s apartment. 

The best thing about Dani was that he wasn’t a morning person either. Other than bluntly warning Neymar that Joana was asleep and that they should be quiet, he didn’t say another blessed word, instead thrusting a huge mug of steaming hot coffee in his hands. 

“Drink fast—we gotta leave soon.” 

Ney nodded, burning his tongue on the hot coffee. But by the time Dani had finished changing out of his pjs and into jeans and a sweatshirt, Ney was feeling much better, revived from the coffee. 

Dani raised his eyebrows at Ney’s position on the couch and Neymar hopped up, inclining his head. They put on both their winter coats in silence, neither zipping up even though Ney knew full well how cold it was. 

He followed Dani out into the hallway and they didn’t speak until they got into the elevator. 

“Why’d you decide to come?” Dani asked abruptly. 

Neymar shrugged. “Wanted to say bye.” 

Dani’s eyes were shrewd even at this time of the morning. But he didn’t say anything, just dropped his chin and stared at his own feet, still too sleepy to drag Neymar, probably. 

Ney shrugged. Truthfully, he didn’t know why he’d come. He didn’t even know when he’d decided _to_ come. He’d been unable to sleep, tossing and turning, Leo’s last words burning in his mind as he rewound the scene over and over. He couldn’t stop picturing Leo’s eyes, how intense they had been as he’d said his piece, how he’d held himself so tightly, so rigidly. 

It had felt incomplete to Neymar. Like it wasn’t enough, like he should have _said_ something. So he’d texted Dani, asking if he could come. Dani had agreed so long as he took the bus to Dani’s place in the morning and got there on time. 

He mused on these thoughts as he got into the car, drowsily thinking of how fun it would be to see Leo’s face when he first saw Neymar. He fell asleep like that, dreaming of Leo’s smiles and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. 

* * *

 

When Neymar finally woke up, it was to Dani gently shaking him. “Ney, we’re at the airport. Come on.” 

Blinking blearily, he glanced around and then, shocked, twisted around in his seat. “Where’s Messi?” he muttered stupidly. Through the rear windshield, he could see that the boot had been opened and realised that he could hear the sounds of a suitcase being removed. 

And then the boot closed with a dull _thud_ and Ney saw Leo looking at him through the glass. When Leo realised he was awake, a slow, brilliant smile lit his face. Neymar felt himself relaxing, placing his cheek against the seat and smiled back at Leo. 

When Leo finally moved around, he came to Ney’s door, opening it for him, suitcase in his hand. Bracing himself, hands placed on the roof of the car, he leaned in while Neymar faced forwards again. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to wake up.” 

Sheepishly, Ney grinned up at him. “You should have woken me.” 

Leo leaned in a little further, his back curving, the sky behind him white and brilliant. “I like you better asleep.” 

Neymar scowled at him. “That’s mean.” 

Leo’s snort was soft. “Come, asshole. Or else I’ll miss my flight.” He shouted at Dani, pointing at the airport doors. Dani nodded, gesturing at the wheel. The message was clear: he’d park and meet them inside.

Neymar got out unwillingly, shivering in the cold. “Why do you have to go, anyway?” 

Leo carried his suitcase over the snow, placing it down only when they had gotten inside the airport, the floors clean and smooth. “Why do I have to go home to visit my family?” he asked distractedly, looking up at the monitor for his check-in counters. 

Neymar batted Leo’s hand away from the handle of his suitcase, indicating he’d take it. The handle was warm from Leo’s grasp and, for some reason, the warmth suffused Ney’s skin all over. “Yeah, why do you have to go?” 

Leo cupped the back of Ney’s elbow, gently nudging him to move. “Mm, I am terrible,” Leo murmured, eyes reading the signs quickly as they moved past them. His hand dropped away from Ney as they walked. 

“Have you checked in?” 

“Yeah, but I gotta drop my baggage off.” 

Ney nodded, pulling Leo’s bag in his wake. It was heavier than he’d expected, but considering Leo was going for three weeks, it wasn’t too surprising. 

There was surprisingly no line at the baggage drop-off and Leo was done in a few minutes, coming back with a smile, his laptop bag slung around his shoulders and a small carry-on in his wake. 

Neymar watched him approach, the crowd and the bustle in the airport combined with his sleepiness making him feel pensive. Troubled and a little sad, he found himself reliving last night again as he looked at Messi. “I’m sorry,” he blurted as Leo came within hearing distance. 

Leo froze a little mid-step before moving forward again. “What?” he asked very calmly. 

“I’m sorry for… for hitting you. That—I’m not like that. I’ve never even fought with anyone ever. Not ever. I’ve never even punched someone. Even with my sister, I’ve never laid a hand on her, even when we were little.” 

Leo listened, his expression impassive. Neymar swallowed and continued. “I can’t—I don’t know what happened to me last night. I’ve never—I don’t know why. I’m so sorry, there is nothing I can do to take that back, but I’m so sorry.” He paused, feeling his throat spasm. “I just want you to know that I would never do it again to you, never. I mean it, Leo, I’m so sorry.” 

Leo nodded. “But if you _do_ do that again, Neymar, _ever_ ,” he said slowly, eyes searching Ney’s, “we are done. It’s not even going to be a discussion. Do you understand?” 

It was galling, embarrassing, _humiliating_ but Neymar deserved it and he nodded, swallowing humble pie. “Yes,” Ney whispered. 

Leo clenched his jaw almost reflexively, processing what Ney had just said, the muscles in his cheek flexing and then suddenly his eyes unclouded. He jerked his chin to behind Neymar, his expression easing. Ney turned abruptly and saw Dani approach. He forced a smile. 

“Buy me some breakfast before you go in,” Dani said rudely, looking cranky. “You got the time, right?” he said, eyebrows raising. 

Leo’s grin was infectious. “For you, always.” His smile was warm and they started to walk together through the crowd, Neymar falling in step behind them. As Ney watched their dark heads, bent close together in conversation, he felt something in his stomach unclench. An almost visceral relief—as if he had finally put down a heavy load, as if he’d finally released a burden he hadn’t even known he was carrying. 

* * *

 

They ate quickly, ravenously. Neymar hesitated at first, not wanting to spend his meagre savings on food that was so outrageously overpriced, but watching Leo and Dani order massively huge plates made his willpower quickly blow up into smoke. 

He ordered more than the both of them, generous in his newfound extravagance. They dug in, feasting on bacon, eggs, pancakes, waffles, and sausages. But Ney quickly found that, though he could out-order Dani and Leo, he couldn’t out-eat them. Their stomachs were simply bottomless. 

Agape, he watched them munch through plate after plate of food, untiring. Long after his stomach threatened to spew in abject protest at the massive amounts he’d decided to stuff into his mouth, they continued to eat calmly, raising their eyebrows in surprise at his appetite (or lack thereof). 

“You get full fast.” 

“Um, _no_ ,” Ney said, drawing out the word. “ _You_ guys eat _too_ much. I, on the other hand, am perfectly normal. What is this, some athlete thing or something? You guys on steroids?” 

Dani laughed so hard, he choked a little. Sputtering into his orange juice, he pointed his fork at Leo. “You think _that’s_ a dude on steroids?” 

Neymar raised his eyebrows, delighted at this teasing of Leo. “ _Oooh_ ,” he said loudly. 

Leo seemed unperturbed, grabbing Neymar’s unfinished juice and drinking. “Look who’s talking,” he murmured, focusing on his waffles. 

“Hey!” Neymar and Dani chorused in unison and then turned to face each other, simultaneous looks of confusion and understanding. “Wait, are you talking about him?” they said together, pointing at each other accusingly. 

“Jinx,” Neymar sneaked in before Dani could. 

Dani simply rolled his eyes and kept eating, but pointed his fork at Leo. “Explain yourself.” 

“Hey, I _jinxed_ you--” 

Leo spoke over him. “Both of you.” 

“Hey!” they cried again and this time Dani triumphantly uttered, “Jinx!” 

Ney rolled his eyes, stealing his juice back from Leo and sipping it, thinking weirdly that they were actually swapping saliva. Flushing a little from his thoughts, he refocused on the conversation. “You can’t jinx after you ignored a jinx—” 

“He jinxed you, you know,” Leo advised him, “You shouldn’t speak during a jinx.” 

Neymar’s mouth opened. “What about when _I_ jinxed _him_ before? You never said anything then—” 

Leo ignored him, turning back to Dani and asked if he wanted ice cream. Neymar shook his head, giving up. He browsed through his phone as they ordered another stack of waffles and ice cream, looking at his Instagram timeline. 

He almost scrolled past a picture and then froze, finger scrolling back. 

There it was. 

A picture of Kun and Leo, sitting by side, drinking _mate_. It was from last night and they both looked almost tipsy with happiness, shoulders pressing together as they squinted into the camera. Ney scrolled down slowly to the caption, angling his phone so Dani couldn’t see what he was looking at. 

_late night conversations with my main man. see you in 3 weeks!!_  

He ended it with an Argentina flag emoji. Neymar felt his heart twist sickeningly and he exited the app quickly, but then reopened it just as quickly, his finger clicking unerringly on the comments. 

Leo’s comment was the second one. 

_el mejor jajajaja_  

Ney’s Spanish was decent enough to know it meant “the best”, but it still made his stomach clench. He exited the app for good now, tucking it into his jeans pocket. 

He thought ruefully of how jealous he was of their friendship. He didn’t have the right to be jealous of Leo’s other friends, but still—he couldn’t quite help himself. 

Had he fucked up too much with Leo to ever get to that level again? He suppressed a sigh, shaking his thoughts off. No. He wasn’t going to be a bummer just as Leo was leaving for vacation. So he raised his chin, squaring his shoulders, and forced a happy note into his words. 

But when Leo reached for his juice again, Ney sternly said no. 

Hey, he wasn’t perfect, okay?

* * *

 

It was hard saying goodbye. Ney knew it would be. But he kept up appearances--mostly for Dani (he couldn’t take any more teasing) and also because he felt intensely vulnerable. He’d laid out all his feelings in front of Leo both last night and this morning and it was hard to imagine being more open for hurt than he was right now. 

So he kept cheerful, talking and chattering up to the moment that Leo had to enter into Security. There, the chatter slowly dried up, turning from a flood into a slow trickle. Dani must have noticed because he slung a hang around Ney’s shoulder as they inched closer to the doors. 

When Leo finally turned to say goodbye, Ney swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. He let Dani go first and they hugged, their held hands in between both of their bodies. Dani slipped his fingers into his pockets and they turned to Ney. 

Ney didn’t know what to do. Was he allowed to hug Leo? Should they just shake hands? 

But Leo stepped forward, sliding a hand around Neymar’s shoulder, pulling him in. Ney went whole-hog then. He wrapped his arms around Leo’s neck and hugged him tightly, resisting the urge to bury his face against Leo’s neck. 

“I’ll miss you. Come back. Quickly.” 

Leo’s hand rubbed up his back and then gently pushed him away. “I will,” he murmured, his eyes searching Ney’s face. His smile was slow as he squeezed Neymar’s shoulder. 

“Have a safe trip,” Ney said, fighting back tears, fully aware that he was behaving like an overemotional toddler. 

Leo nodded, his eyes on Ney’s face as he finally turned towards the doors. He waved at them right before he slipped in and they waved back. When he was out of sight, Dani turned towards Neymar, taking in his expression. 

He let out a whistle. “Oh, boy,” he said, shaking his head. 

“What?” Ney asked sullenly. 

Dani kept shaking his head, slinging his arm back around Neymar. “Come,” he said kindly. “I’ll buy you some pizza.” 

“Are you seriously thinking of food _again_?” Ney asked, genuinely so shocked he was completely distracted. 

They bickered all the way to the car, but Ney’s phone buzzed as he got in and he glanced at it distractedly. 

It was a text from Leo. 

_i’ll miss you too_  

Neymar smiled all the way home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be busy for the next few weeks so expect another update no earlier than mid december. you've been warned! have a lovely day/night/week!!! <3333


	13. Returns and Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man. it's been a few months. in my defense, i've been really busy and also uninspired. i hope this chapter is long enough to satisfy you folks :)

Neymar missed Leo acutely—in fact, it surprised him just how much. He found that he missed Leo more now than he’d ever done before—even when they’d been apart all those weeks. Somehow, the knowledge that he had Leo back as a friend, but not actually have access to him all the time—somehow, that was worse than not being able to talk to him at all.

They _did_ message and Snap, of course, restarting a streak that had ended after—well, _that_ night. But Messi wasn’t always free and his replies came infrequently, usually only at the end of the day when he was just about to go to sleep. By that time, of course, Leo was usually too tired to talk too much and excused himself after only a few minutes of texting.

Neymar didn’t begrudge him the time with his family, but he jokingly grumbled all the same. He found himself restraining himself from texting Leo too much—so often, he found a funny meme or post that he wanted to send to Leo, but instead stopped himself. He didn’t know _why_ ; there was no particular reason for him to be embarrassed about messaging Leo.

And, yet, strangely enough, he was.

For his part, Leo sent him pictures of his niece and nephews and, of course, they were adorable. Ney had always liked kids well enough so these certainly weren’t a hardship. He enjoyed these moments and made sure to be always extra complimentary because, hey, they were _kids_. Besides, the pictures showed something else: a Leo in softer moments and Ney found himself amused and touched at Leo’s obvious pride in his beautiful nieces and nephews.

Until, of course, he started to send Ney pictures of himself _with_ the little ones.

Somehow, this was different. Ney couldn’t particularly explain why, but he found himself staring at these shots for weirdly long times. Something about Messi with children was strangely compelling. It disarmed Neymar in a certain way—as if it revealed something about Ney.

He just couldn’t figure out _what_ it revealed.

But the worst moment, by far, was when he stumbled on the _video_.

One afternoon, when Ney was scrolling through his Instagram activity, he noticed Leo liking a video by _@rodrigo.messi10_. Casually, he clicked on the video and found himself _bewitched_. The video was normal enough: Leo was playing with his little niece and she kept crawling away from him to some woman, probably her own mother. Messi was pretending outrage and his niece screamed in delight as he growled and wrestled gently with her, playfully dragging her by the ankles.

Neymar found himself transfixed. He watched the video 10 times and then periodically came back throughout the day to watch and watch. He was careful not to like the video—how would he explain _that_?—but the stress of accidentally pressing a button finally forced him to download the video through a third-party app. Full of shame but stress-free, he watched the video over and over, blanket over his head as if he wanted to hide.

He couldn’t explain why the video was so compelling, but it disturbed him nonetheless—and the next morning he deleted it, feeling slightly relieved. But something from the video stuck—a strange, melting feeling in his chest as if he’d been cracked open and poured out. He found himself thinking odd thoughts—like that Messi would be a good father, that Leo had filled out in Rosario, that he was even more attractive.

The thoughts were so embarrassing and so insidious that he found himself flushing hotly every time the memory of the video flashed through his mind. It was inexplicable and the shame of it was so hot and so undeniable that he had to physically walk around the room to shake off the blush.

Until he caved and downloaded the video again.

 

* * *

 

The day before Messi came home, Neymar found himself simultaneously nervous and happy. He was almost bouncing, his delight infectious, until, finally, Marcelo exasperatedly sent him out of the library, claiming Ney was too distracting. Laughing, Ney gave him a kiss on the cheek and flounced out of the library, leaving behind a ruefully surprised Marcelo.

He went over to Dani’s place, feeling Dani would be the perfect person to hang out with when he was so hyper. When he knocked on the door, he was momentarily disconcerted that Geri opened it, but recovered quickly, jumping into his arms.

Geri staggered back, more due to surprise than to Neymar’s weight. His chuckle was low and reverberated gently into Ney’s ear. “What’s going on with you, crazy?”

Neymar beamed, leaning back, disentangling himself. He was in _that_ mood: bubbly and infectiously happy. He could tell by the growing smile on Geri’s face that Geri felt it too. Neymar grinned, moving into the apartment. He’d always had that effect on people when he was genuinely, truly happy, as if everything he came into contact with was lit up by his own joy.

“Daniiiii,” he sang. “Where are _youuuu_?”

Dani popped his head out of the kitchen. “Neymar! Come here and help me cook.”

“Oooh, what are we making?” Still flying from his good mood, he picked up an apron, tying the strings around his waist.

They spent some time together, drinking beer and cooking, playing samba in the background. Neymar was the centre of attention and content to be so—he danced for them, chattering on and on as they watched him, their eyes indulgent and amused.

He tried to teach Geri how to samba, but he was hopeless—a hopeless uncoordinated giraffe. Neymar collapsed into giggles, leaning against the kitchen counter. “How do you even play football? You’re so ungraceful!”

Geri laughed unselfconsciously—he was too confident to be truly insulted. “I’m good, you know.”

“Speaking of good at football,” Dani said, his eyes sliding up, mischievous. That should have warned Neymar, in retrospect. But he was still giggling, his eyes wet from laughter. “I’m picking Leo up from the airport tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

Dani’s eyes were twinkling as he too leaned against the kitchen counter, his smile sly. Neymar felt the laughter leave him even before the smile disappeared from his face. He felt the question like a punch in the gut and hated Dani for asking in that moment of vulnerability—when he’d been naked and open from laughing, when he hadn’t been able to protect from this.

What _was_ this? Troubled, he turned away—why was it such a big deal? Picking up a friend from the airport? Why did it affect Neymar like this, like as if someone had settled a sudden weight in his stomach?

Pasting on a shaky smile—too late, by the expressions on both Geri’s and Dani’s faces—Ney shrugged casually and replied, “Oh, he’s coming tomorrow?” The truth was, he was buying time on top of saving face. Of _course_ , he _wanted_ to say yes but, goddamn it all, he _hated_ that expression on Dani’s face.

Dani’s grin was knowing and he exchanged a quick glance with Geri. “Yes, tomorrow. News to you, I’m sure,” he said breezily. “So, coming or no?”

Neymar turned away, stirring his stir-fry, studiously avoiding Dani’s gaze. “What time are you going?”

“Around 8 tomorrow evening. His flight lands at 7:30.”

Neymar snuck a peek at Dani’s face, taking in a deep breath, ready to suck up his pride, but he stopped at Dani’s expression. God, it was so _smug_. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t give Dani that satisfaction. “No,” he forced himself to say. His shoulders hunched up, probably in silent protest at his own stupidity. “I’ll stay here and study.”

Dani was silent for long enough that Neymar looked up. He expected to see surprise on Dani’s face, but instead there was something so gentle in his expression that it froze Neymar. Dani shook his head a little, smiling, then patted Ney on the back. “Sure. If you change your mind, let me know.”

Ney’s eyes darted quickly to Geri’s—he was looking impassive, but his eyes were soft and Neymar swallowed, looking down. He couldn’t bear it—the _knowledge_ in their eyes. They were _wrong,_ of course, but he still—it still _sucked_.

He nodded, all the while cursing himself, wishing he didn’t have to be so prideful. There was a brief awkward silence, but then Dani hooted at something on his phone, pushing the screen alarmingly close to Ney’s face. He blinked cross-eyed at the blurry video in front of him of a panda falling out of a tree because of two other pandas having sex nearby.

He burst into laughter and just like that the tension dissipated.

And by the time they went to sit on the couch with their plates of steaming food, Neymar had forgotten all about the airport and Messi.

Well, _almost._

 

* * *

 

 

Neymar danced in the club, his body writhing and pulsing along with the music as it pounded along with his heartbeat, thrumming against his skin. He moved his hips backward and it bumped gently against a warm body. Smiling, Ney leaned back, fitting his back against this heat, hard and solid against him.

For a while, he danced, not feeling the heat of the room—just of the body behind him, losing himself in the beat, his muscles moving fluidly, gracefully, perfectly. The person behind him pressed closer, their hands coming slowly to his hips and then slowly moving around to press against his stomach, forcing Neymar to be as close as possible.

Neymar smiled wickedly, feeling sexy and heated, his body on fire. He leaned his head back against the person, his neck exposed. An invitation.

Sure enough, he felt the person moving down, their soft lips drifting gently across Neymar’s brown skin, not quite touching—almost just sampling.

Shivering, Neymar scrunched his eyes back. It felt so unbelievably good—had anything felt this good? The music around him had almost dissolved—it was just him and this person kissing his neck, this person pressing warm and hot and hard around him.

He made to move, to dance against the stranger’s front, but the person held him firmly, pressing their lips harder against Ney’s neck. Neymar made no sound, just parted his lips in pleasure, his hands coming up to drift into the person’s soft hair.

“Do you want to dance?” the stranger asked, their voice low and quiet in Neymar’s ear—but somehow he heard, even over the loud music.

Neymar nodded, opening his eyes, and turning around slowly within the stranger’s arms—turning around in such a way that they were still pressed together, turning in such a way that he never lost contact even for a second.

When his eyes met Leo’s, he wasn’t surprised. Their faces were an inch apart maybe, no more than that and Neymar felt truly, wildly, happy. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to stop, not ever. There was pleasure just in this, just being so close to Leo, just being _with_ Leo.

Leo’s eyes, dark and fire, drifted over Neymar’s face, lingering on his lips. Neymar felt himself licking his lips, half-unconsciously, but when Leo’s mouth tightened at the movement, Neymar felt himself lurching closer, as if drunk on Leo.

When their mouths touched, it felt as if Neymar was drowning in a sea of touch and pleasure. No kiss had ever felt good, no touch had ever been so warm and palpable and amazing. He mumbled something and pressed even closer as their mouths parted slightly, allowing Leo to gently suck on Neymar’s lower lip.

Just as Ney slipped his fingers into Leo’s hair, he woke up.

Panting, he stared into the black night, desperate, aroused, and ashamed. Not ashamed enough to reach inside his pajamas to palm himself roughly. Not ashamed to think of Leo’s mouth as he came and came and came.

Not ashamed enough to roll right back and fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

_The next night_

Neymar was just scraping the dishes clean when the doorbell rang. Confused, he grabbed his phone, checking the time. Who was here at 10:15? Okay, that seemed a bit sad, but his apartment was cheaper because of its location further away from the campus—not many people visited simply because of the commute. His roommate, Phil, had gone home for the weekend and Ney was alone.

He tried to peep through the peephole, but it was pitch-black and Neymar frowned. He unlocked his door, keeping the chain engaged, and opened it just a crack, looking out into Dani’s face. Dani pressed his face into the small space, making smoochy sounds. Rolling his eyes, slightly confused, Neymar laughed and used his palm to push the face back out and heard Dani laughing. He disengaged the chain and opened the door fully and felt his jaw drop.

Leo was standing next to Dani, wearing a cream sweater and tight black ripped jeans. He looked surprisingly fresh, his smile slightly shy. Neymar felt his cheeks flood with colour, his heart thumping in his chest as his stomach flipped.

“Hi,” he said stupidly.

“Hey,” Leo said, still smiling, his eyes not wavering from Neymar’s.

“Hiiiii,” Dani sang, moving his face forward to come in front of Neymar’s, blocking his view of Leo. Ney blinked, coming to his senses quickly. “Are you going to invite us in?”

“Y-yeah,” Ney stammered, almost tripping over his bare feet as he pulled the door open wider, stepping aside for them to move in. The hallway of his apartment was tiny and he flattened himself against the wall, allowing them to pass by him. It was a mistake, he realised—he should have just gone ahead in front of them. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with Leo in a darkened space, his cheeks burning as Leo stood confidently in front of him, taking up space with a casualness that was… weirdly… No. Neymar shook his head firmly. He was _not_ going down that road—Leo was Kun’s boyfriend, he was _not_ going to be weird.

Blinking, he turned away, trying to squeeze past both of them, but not before he saw Leo’s hand moving out to touch him, fingers just brushing Ney’s arm as he moved. Flustered, regretting moving, he scampered out in front of them, smiling awkwardly in welcome. He avoided looking at Messi even as he clocked him out of the corner of his eyes, fiercely aware of exactly where he was and how he was standing.

Dani moved forward, linking his arm through Ney’s, leading them both toward the living room. “I told Messi I had to come pick up that assignment from you. It was on the way.”

Neymar felt as if he was swimming against a current and he was roughly dropped onto the couch where he thumped into the cushions clumsily. Blinking, he glanced up and saw Leo making his way to the windows, peering through the blinds. Flushing, Ney turned back to Dani who was smiling wickedly. “What assignment?”

“You know, you promised me your lab report. So I could copy it.”

Leo snorted from the window and Ney’s head whipped around to him, but it seemed that was all Leo was going to say. He turned back to Dani who was moving towards the kitchen. “Where’re you going?” he asked, voice slightly hysterical, panic bubbling inside him.

“Getting a snack,” Dani called back, disappearing into the kitchen.

The silence fell, heavy and awkward between them, punctuated by the sounds of Dani puttering around the kitchen, whistling as if he had not a care in the world. Neymar felt frozen, his heart pounding. His hands turned into fists as he felt Leo moving from the window, slowly meandering back towards the couch.

Screamingly aware of Leo’s jeans gently shushing as his thighs moved, Ney felt the sweat slowly starting to drip down the back of his shirt, feeling each individual droplet in exquisite sensation. Leo moved as if in slow motion, coming to sit on the same couch, but at the other end.

“Why don’t you get the assignment?” he finally asked quietly.

Neymar turned to Leo, his eyes burning. He felt the weight of Leo’s presence here in his apartment, felt his palms go sweaty, his heart pound, felt his stomach dip and swivel. And, suddenly, in that moment—the full memory of his dream hit him, the images blurring in front of his eyes. He could even _remember_ the feeling of Leo’s mouth touching his, the warmth and softness of it, the wetness of it—it was so vivid.

And that was when Neymar knew that he’d gone past—past friendship. _So_ far past friendship.

He _liked_ Leo.

 _Like_ liked him.

He felt thunderstuck by the knowledge, even as if it suddenly seemed so obvious. It had been right in front of his eyes for weeks. Dani and Geri had tried to tell him for so long. He swallowed hard, feeling dizzy, feeling overwhelmed. His knees were so weak, it was a blessing he was sitting down.

“Ney?” Leo whispered, making to move shuffle closer on the couch.

But it was too much, too quick. The knowledge of his feelings for Leo were so new and so painful and so goddamn _obvious_ that he couldn’t quite _do_ this. He stood up, almost leaping away from Leo. “Assignment,” he mumbled, his mouth clumsy and frozen. “I’ll go get the assignment. I’ll be back.”

He disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him, plopping down on his bed, his heart still pounding, mind racing. He felt himself flush from the sense-memory of the dream still, his skin burning and crawling with sensations. Groaning, he buried his face in his hands—it was too much, too much, too much.

He sat there for perhaps no more than a few minutes, but then he heard a loud rap on the door before Dani barged in. “What’re you doing?” Dani whispered, throwing his hands up. “I try to give you a couple of minutes alone and you run into the bedroom!”

“Dani, not now,” Neymar said, shaking his head.

“Yes, now. Hurry, get some fake assignment and give it to me.” He pulled a protesting Neymar to his feet and looked him over critically. “You had to wear _these_ pjs today?”

Neymar glanced down, momentarily distracted. He was wearing his oldest pjs today, worn soft by years of washing. It was soft, blue and covered with baby elephants—his favourite animal. Flushing, he glanced up to reply only to see Dani rummaging through his books. He opened his mouth and then shut it on a click—sometimes, it was better just not to ask.

Dani finally pulled out a sheaf of players and immediately glanced through them critically. “Aha!” he said triumphantly. He waved at them at Neymar. “These are from a week ago—it’s perfect.”

Ney shook his head wearily. “Dani—” he started.

“No,” Dani said, pointing his finger at Neymar. “You still don’t get it.”

Outraged, Ney gasped. “I _do_ get it! I—I—” he broke off, reddening. He’d _just_ admitted it to himself that he had feelings for Leo—he just didn’t know if he could tell Dani just _yet_. Even if Dani already knew.

Dani shook his head, his mouth grim. “No, man, you still don’t get it. You think you do. You _think_ you understand that you like Leo, you think you finally figured it out.”

Neymar gaped, stunned into silence.

“But that’s not even it. You’re still not getting it. You’re still here. Hiding out in your bedroom. What’re you _doing_ , man? How much longer are you gonna play Leo?”

That woke Ney up. “Me? _Me_? You think _I’m_ playing Messi? Are you _mad_?” he spluttered, utterly shocked.

“You played yourself all these months,” Dani said quietly. “Did you think he wasn’t hurt too?”

Neymar stared, lips parted, unable to reply.

“For once, just be straight with yourself. And go be gay with him.”

And cracking up at his own joke, he sashayed out of the room as if he hadn’t just left a bomb at Neymar’s feet and watched it blow up. Ney swayed, his mind whirling. He sat down, knees shaking, trying to process what Dani had just said, but before he could do anything, he heard the rumble of conversation and suddenly the sound of his front door closing.

Blinking, he rushed out of the room and saw Leo leaning resignedly against the hallway wall.

“Where’s Dani?” Neymar asked stupidly, his mind several steps behind tonight.

“He had to leave. Apparently, Joana has an emergency. He said he didn’t have time to say bye to you so I should tell you.” Leo’s expression held clear disbelief and also slight amusement.

“So… you have to stay with me?” Ney felt his heart thudding again.

Leo tilted his head, his smile amused and his eyes twinkling. “If you’ll have me, good sir?” he asked mockingly, his voice slightly clipped and formal.

Neymar shrugged, turning away. “Why would I mind?” he asked, his voice a few notes too high. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “But your suitcase—” he stopped short, seeing two massive suitcases in his living room.

He turned to Leo, completely confused. “When did you bring up your luggage?”

Leo grinned. “Dani brought them up when we came in. You didn’t notice? Not so subtle, that one.”

Neymar stared, his brain working too slowly. “Are you saying that fucker made you bring up your suitcases when he just needed to get an assignment from me?”

Leo’s eyes were full of laughter. “Yes.”

They looked at each other and then burst out laughing, leaning against the wall to hold themselves up. “Oh, man, why didn’t you stop him?” Ney said once he’d finally stopped laughing, wiping his wet eyes.

Messi shrugged, smiling. “He actually has plans with Joana, that idiot. So I figured I’d let him manipulate me and then we’ll kill him later.”

Ney grinned. “Come on, let me make up your bed for you.” His voice had settled down now, coming out low and rumbly. Better.

Leo followed Neymar into the bedroom. “Wait, where am I sleeping? I thought I’d be in your bed.”

Neymar flushed wildly and opened the sliding doors of his closet, staring determinedly into it, praying to find clean sheets. “You are! But I’ll just make it for you with fresh sheets and get my pillow and get out of the way.” Finding some freshly laundered sheets, he grabbed them, relief flooding through him. He turned back to face Messi and found that Leo had moved closer, not by much but it still disconcerted Ney.

“Where are you sleeping?” Leo asked, eyebrows raised, arms crossed across his chest.

“I mean—well, I was thinking the couch—”

“No.”

Neymar gaped a little, but went on. “Listen, I can’t sleep in my roommate’s bed cause he’s weird about that stuff so the couch will be _perfect_ —” He made to move around Leo, his arms full of sheets, but Leo followed the movement, blocking Ney neatly again.

Ney pressed back into the door of his closet, his feet backing up inch by inch even though Leo didn’t advance on him. His heart felt fluttery and was beating hard—sweat slipped down the back of his shirt into the band of his pajama pants.

“You’re _not_ sleeping on the couch.” Leo gestured towards Ney’s bed. “Ney, you have a Queen! You don’t need to sleep on the couch. Do I look huge to you?” he asked, waving a hand to his own body.

Ney shook his head. “I know, but…” He trailed off, trying not to look at Messi full in the face—it was just a little _too_ much right now.

“But…?”

“But… well, the guys—if they find out, it’ll be so embarrassing!” Neymar burst out, the perfect excuse coming to his lips, almost as if divinely sent. Triumphantly, he smiled at Leo, forgetting his crush, but Leo seemed unimpressed.

“What, you think I’m going to send them a video of us sleeping together? Don’t be ridiculous. And—” Leo said, swiping the sheets from Ney’s hand, gently moving him out of the way, sliding the doors open to dump them back in the closet, “—you don’t need fresh sheets. I’m going to shower. I’m not that dirty.”

Spluttering, Ney turned towards his closet again, but Leo laid a hand on the sliding doors, right in front of Neymar’s face. Ney froze, waiting almost in agony as Leo moved closer behind Neymar, his warmth seeping through his clothes. “Ney,” Leo said quietly, “What’s going on, buddy? You don’t want me here?”

Ney’s head snapped up and he whirled around. “No!” He shook his head frantically. “No, of course I want you to stay! I just… I want you to be comfortable,” he said lamely, his voice dwindling in volume.

Leo’s smile was so kind that, suddenly, Neymar wanted to cry. He wanted to sit on the ground and weep. He couldn’t even fully explain _why_. “Ney,” Leo said gently, his eyes trained on Ney’s, leaning in a little as he made the point, “I’m always comfortable with you.”

Dully, Ney thought, _Of course you are. Because we’re_ friends.

God, what a terrible word.

 

* * *

 

 

Leo asked to use the bathroom first and Ney was quick to agree—after all, Messi had just travelled an insane amount of hours and deserved the hot water. He quickly scampered in the direction of the living room, turning on the TV and turning the volume up until it was obnoxious. He knew he’d get a stern text from his neighbours tomorrow, but fuck it. He wasn’t going to listen to the sounds of Leo going into the bathroom and then—well Ney needed _no_ help with his overactive imagination.

Not after that stupid _dream_.

He groaned out loud, his cheeks flaming as the memories flooded him. Usually, he forgot dreams right away—and, truly, he couldn’t remember every single detail of the dream in all its vividness, but it had left an impression. It was hard to explain, really, but he could still remember the _pleasure_ , the _sensations_ of the dream—almost as if the feeling had been real.

Even now, the mouth on his neck—

Gasping, Ney got to his feet. He was _not_ doing this. Leo was in a _relationship_. With Kun, of all people. Who seemed nice. Meanly, Ney thought, _Nice, but Kun was just a little…_

Miserably, Ney kicked the carpet. He couldn’t even come up with _one_ bad thing to say about Kun. Kun seemed perfectly nice. And, clearly, he cared for Leo.

Ney felt the sadness well up inside him—suddenly, he wished for Felipe again. Sure, it would be wrong to string a person along, but… but, at least, that was a distraction. Was he going to have to deal with watching Kun and Leo now?

It would be different now, harder. Because now he knew Leo wasn’t his.

And now he knew he wanted Leo to be his.

He sat down heavily, his limbs suddenly leaden. He was going to have to watch and pretend and—and it was a lot. He didn’t have that kind of strength. Tomorrow, he would download Tinder again and start going out to clubs and bars. He needed to find someone quick.

A one-night stand or two or ten and surely this would be out of his system. Nodding to himself, Neymar sank back against the cushions of his couch, feeling slightly better. But, of course, just as he was starting to feel less anxious, Leo walked in.

 _Shirtless_.

Thoroughly and completely flabbergasted, Neymar stared unabashedly as Leo moved further into the room, looking at the TV, a towel rubbing at his damp hair. He had a shirt draped over one shoulder and he clearly hadn’t noticed Ney ogling him.

Yet.

Ney quickly swallowed, aware that Messi had been saying something. “Uh… what?” He tore his eyes away, trying to focus on the TV. What show were they even watching?

“I said, I love this episode. I didn’t know you watched this show!” And draping his towel casually over the back of an armchair, Leo began to pull his shirt on even as he moved to sit next to Ney on the couch.

Ney couldn’t look away. Leo’s muscles rippling as he quickly shrugged the shirt on, his back flexing, his pelvis tilting forward to support his movement, a stray droplet of water on Messi’s hip bone… Ney’s mouth watered and for one mad moment, he almost leaned towards Leo, almost leaned forward to brush his lips over that one protuberance.

But it was over in a second and Leo had plopped down next to him, a respectable amount of distance safely between them. Neymar finally dared to breathe again, his chest aching.

“I… uh, yeah, I love this show.” Actually, he didn’t even know what they were watching, but he squinted now, trying to focus. Oh, _Modern Family_. Thank God. He actually _did_ watch and love this show so that would work.

They sat in silence watching the show except for Messi’s occasional chuckles—followed by Neymar’s slightly-late laughter. Truthfully, he wasn’t paying attention. He _tried_ , but it was Messi’s smell.

Not that he smelled bad, but he smelled like _Neymar_.

He had clearly used Ney’s soap and shampoo and it was somehow utterly disorienting to smell it on Leo—it felt like an invasion, like Leo was wearing his underwear. It felt _too_ intimate. It was just soap—but it felt like something much, _much_ worse.

When the credits finally rolled, Neymar jumped up in relief. “I-I-I’ll go take a shower,” he stammered, rushing towards his bedroom. And, just as he was passing by the armchair, he realised that Leo had used _his_ towel. Groaning inwardly, he rushed into the bathroom as fast as possible.

Of _course_ Leo had used his towel. What else would happen on this special, extremely fucked up night?

 

* * *

 

The shower soothed Neymar more than he’d expected it to. Halfway through, the water sluicing down his back, Ney felt himself relax. He soaped himself carefully, only wincing slightly as the smell reminded him of Leo.

It would be okay. Of course it would be. It was just the first day—the first day of discovering you had a crush on one of your good friends wasn’t going to be easy for anyone. He would just have to ride it out—he winced— _wait_ it out and it would go away. Of course it would.

He certainly wasn’t going to make any moves—not when Leo was in a relationship. And, besides that, he wasn’t going to do anything to someone who was a friend. Their friendship was worth so much more than Ney’s silly little crush.

Although, he frowned, he wondered why Dani wanted them to get together. Maybe he didn’t know about Kun. But you’d think that _Dani_ of all people would know—they’d been friends for much longer than Ney, and _Ney_ knew.

Ney shrugged. The best thing to do was just to behave as normally as he could and wait it out—and it _would_ go away. He would _will_ it away if he had to.

Because he wasn’t ruining what he had with Messi again.

Not ever.

 

* * *

 

When Neymar finally emerged from the bathroom—only because the water had become too cold to stand—Leo was already in bed, blanket pulled up to his waist. The lights were turned off but his bedside lamps were turned on, bathing the room with a soft yellow light.

He stepped into the doorway and felt his heart contract as he looked at Leo—he looked so soft and vulnerable and _clean_ and Neymar felt affection in every bone of his body. He smiled at Leo who was smiling sleepily back.

“Hi,” Leo said softly.

“Hi, loser,” Ney said agreeably, moving into the room. The atmosphere between them had finally gone back to normal and, this time, even though his heart sped up a little in excitement of sharing a bed, he didn’t feel his normal composure break.

“I’m gonna turn these off, okay?” Ney said, gesturing at the lamps. Leo nodded, his eyes dark and soft in the light.

The room was plunged into darkness, but Neymar knew his room inside and out. He padded to the other side of the bed and climbed up, crawling under the blanket. He snuggled down for a few moments, stretching his toes luxuriously, enjoying the feeling. Feeling warm and drowsy and so goddamned happy, he turned to Leo who had already turned on his side to face Neymar.

The bed was big and they were both mostly staying on their sides, but Leo was still only less than an arm’s length away—it was really much closer to that. Leo grinned, sticking a finger out to poke Neymar gently in the side and Ney laughed. He thought suddenly that this was the happiest he’d been in ages, truly happy, almost euphoric.

“Tell me about your trip,” Ney said.

Leo groaned, turning to bury his head into his pillow. “Noooo, I’m sleepyyyy.”

Ney whacked him lightly on the arm—he couldn’t help himself touching Leo—and faked outrage. “Hey! You haven’t talked to me in ages. Come on.”

Leo opened one eye to look at Neymar, looking calculating. “How about I show you a few pictures now and then tell you the rest tomorrow?”

Laughing, Neymar rolled to his side, his heart thumping happily. “Yes, you lazy. Let’s see them.”

Leo chuckled and straightened, leaning over to the other side to get his phone. He unlocked it and they both blinked, dazzled by the bright light coming from the phone. Quickly, he turned the brightness of the screen down and then scooted over closer to Ney, beckoning Ney to do the same.

Neymar moved in, his heart bursting in his chest, a silly smile on his face, until their arms were just touching and he listened as Leo started to scroll and explain. There was usually a story along with the picture and Neymar laughed along, especially at a picture where Leo was completely soaked from head to toe (he’d been pushed into the pool).

Messi even touched on some family drama, explaining about a fight that had happened between two of his uncles and Neymar nodded along, automatically taking Leo’s side in everything, who found this funny and laughed long and hard at Neymar swearing passionately at the “bad” uncle.

And then Leo scrolled to the _video_.

 _The_ video.

The one that had driven Neymar mad for ages, the one of Leo and his niece.

Without thinking, Ney blurted, “Oh, that one! I’ve seen that one!”

When Leo turned his head to him slowly, his eyebrows furrowing, Ney knew he had fucked up.

Oh, boy, had he fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun. i have an incurable addiction for cliffhangers. i'm the worst, i know. please let me know what you think! :)


	14. Rewards and The Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo i'm guessing if you're reading this today april 11th, you're probably sad because of yesterday so i hope this cheers you up. i wrote this with a heavy heart so idk if it's even good. but i'm posting it anyway in the spirit of moving on!

* * *

 

_Ney laughed lightly, easily. “It showed up in my activity page so I saw it.” He shrugged, smiling. “It was cute.”_

_Leo grinned, his blow clearing, his body visibly relaxing as he turned back to his phone. “She’s my cutie.”_

In retrospect, _that_ was how Neymar should have handled it. After all, it was no big deal. So Ney’d seen Leo liking a video on Instagram and then clicked on it out of curiosity. That wasn’t a crime. People did that all the time.

But Neymar panicked. His mind completely shut down, blanking totally. Instead of replying, he stared at Messi and the phone in Leo’s hand—suddenly recalling all the nights he’d watched the video, remembering how he’d downloaded it to watch over and over again, how the video was still— _still_ —in his phone. Sweating now, Ney opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Ney?” Leo asked gently, his brows furrowing further. “Where’d you see this?”

He could still fix it. He could. But, suddenly, he found his mouth had gone dry and his heart had started thumping. _Talk_! his mind screamed. _Just say anything! It doesn’t matter! It’s not a big deal! Don’t make it weird!_ But he couldn’t for the life of him think of a single thing to say.

“I—I—I—” he stuttered, his mouth clumsy and frozen.

“Neymar,” Leo said, his mouth starting to draw downwards at the corners, his eyes creasing in confusion and worry. He reached out, his phone screen dimming. The movement of Leo’s hand towards him, though, jerked Neymar into speech.

“I saw it on your brother—on your friend—I mean, I don’t know—I thought it was your brother’s page,” Neymar finally burst out, his words a confused babble, speaking slightly louder than he normally would.

“Oh,” Leo said, his eyes still frowning. “You searched for him or something?”

“No, I… I saw it in my activity page.” But Ney could see that the damage had been done. It was that momentary hesitation, that stumble for an answer, that silence before he’d actually given a real reason, though everything he’d said was true. The problem was, it all _sounded_ like Neymar was lying—lying through his goddamned teeth.

And Neymar wasn’t imagining it, wasn’t imagining how badly his words were coming off—he could _see_ Leo’s disbelief pouring out of his dark eyes, Leo’s mouth flattening a little as he listened to Neymar. Ney swallowed, reaching blindly for Leo’s phone. “But show me again—I don’t remember it now.”

 _Now_ he was lying and it was an obvious, silly lie. If he could remember the video enough to recognize it immediately, why wouldn’t he remember the video in its entirety? It was stupid stupid _stupid_. He glanced at Leo and saw that Messi was looking at him strangely, his whole expression confused and also grim.

 _Fuck_.

“Leo?” he pleaded desperately, not exactly sure what he was asking, but knowing Leo would give it to him.

Leo’s eyes lingered on him for a second or two, his gaze dark and searching, drifting down to Neymar’s mouth and then back up to his hazel eyes. Then, he turned to his phone, almost unwillingly, almost as if he’d wanted to say something but changed his mind. He unlocked his phone and handed it to Ney silently, allowing him to watch the video.

Ney watched Leo’s niece quietly, blindly, not really taking it in. Even after it ended, it took him a couple of seconds to register that it was over—he turned just a smidge too late to Leo, trying to sound enthusiastic. “She is _adorable_!” His voice rang false even though he meant it—everything he said sounded fake and he didn’t know why.

He couldn’t meet Leo’s eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. Silence fell between them, a heavy one, full of unsaid doubts. Leo’s phone dimmed again, unused for too long and finally he took pity on Neymar. “Are you tired?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” Ney said gratefully, seizing on the excuse, struggling to swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. “Yes, and _you’re_ probably tired, of course. You’ve been travelling so long—you need your sleep, don’t you?” He spoke in a rush, the words jumbling together in his haste, almost unintelligible.

“Yes,” Leo said quietly, his calm strength shaking Neymar more than anything else could have. Leo reached out with his hand and Ney panicked, jerking back a little, but Leo’s hand froze right in front of his phone—the phone Neymar was still holding.

Flushing wildly, Ney handed it back to Leo, feeling stupid—stupid and exposed. It was insane how badly he’d handed this whole situation, how stupid he was sounding right now and how ridiculous he was acting over something so _small_.

It was the newness of the situation. It was the fact that he hadn’t expected Leo here tonight, that he hadn’t braced himself, that the knowledge of his crush had assaulted him just a couple of hours ago—it was too new, too raw, too _much_. He’d made a mess of everything in his sudden vulnerability.

“Good night, Ney,” Leo said quietly, slowly rolling onto his back. In the soft light of Ney’s beside lamp, he could see Leo’s profile, his face looking up at the ceiling, the shadows playing on his face.

Neymar did the same, rolling onto his stomach and away, tears suddenly brimming in his eyes. Swallowing hard, he murmured, “Good night, Messi.” He reached over to his bedside table and turned the lamp off, plunging the room into blackness.

In the abrupt darkness, almost a void of sight and sound, he struggled to contain both his tears and his breathing. But he didn’t have to wait too long—within a few minutes, he heard Leo’s soft snores and Ney breathed a sigh of relief.

There was something soothing about Leo lying next to him, snoring rhythmically and annoyingly—Neymar found himself feeling lulled despite the misery in his chest. He didn’t have time to think over what he’d done as drowsiness hit him with an abrupt force. He fell asleep with the suddenness of a small child after a good cry and, that night, he dreamed of nothing but riotous colours in a landscape of black.

 

* * *

 

Neymar woke up to the smell of frying bacon and he smiled. His first thought was that it was his roommate, but then he remembered Leo and he immediately sat up, feeling rumpled and disoriented. Leo’s side of the bed had actually been made. Well, to the best it _could_ be made when someone else was still sleeping in it.

Ney found himself smiling again—Leo truly was such a neat freak. He got out of the bed, rubbing his eyes and suddenly remembered the conversation they’d had last night. Pausing on his way to the bathroom, he swallowed, waiting for it to hit him—the dread and the horror, but, somehow, the only thing he felt was his heartbeat kicking up a few notches.

Somehow, now, in the brightness of the day, with the sun streaming into his bedroom, it seemed… _less_ than whatever it had been yesterday. He could still picture Leo’s face and the disbelief in it, but it still didn’t bring the stark horror back—the horror he’d felt last night at the height of it. Now, it seemed like an innocent mistake—awkward and uncomfortable, to be sure, but nothing that time wouldn’t fix.

In fact, by the time he’d pooped, showered, and brushed his teeth, he felt like a wholly new person. Bouncing out of the shower in nothing but a towel and his boxers, he almost collided into Leo who was emerging from his bedroom, clearly in search of Neymar. Leo was still in his pjs, the pants hanging low around his hips, his T-shirt white and plain and stretched across his chest.

There was perhaps one­—just _one_ —moment where it felt like there _could_ be awkwardness brewing between them but that vanished immediately at Leo’s next comment.

“God,” Leo said, fanning a hand in front of him. “That combo of bodywash and shit—that is some smell, dude.”

Ney threw his head back, laughing, unashamed. He waltzed past Leo into the bedroom, feeling bubbly and his usual self—confident and unafraid again. This was _who_ he was and that other person, the guy he’d been last night? Well, he had to agree with Mariah Carey on this one: he didn’t know who _that_ weirdo was.

Leo looked comfortable too—and damned delicious. Just as Neymar was surreptitiously trying to peek at him, Leo stretched, yawning, raising his hands high above his head. His shirt drifted up a bit, just an inch or two, but it gave Ney—who was watching avidly—a glimpse of pale, tight skin over hard, flexing muscles.

It paid to be a creeper, apparently.

But there was also a downside, Neymar quickly realised—and the downside was getting called out on ogling.

“Hey, we aren’t married yet—keep your eyes to yourself.”

Ney’s eyes snapped up to meet Leo’s amused—amused and _something_ else which Ney couldn’t quite identify—eyes. He grinned at Leo, even as his cheeks flushed, though he was in too good of a mood to truly be embarrassed. “What’re you saying, I gotta marry you to get you in bed?”

Leo lifted his nose, sniffing. He affected a hoity-toity manner. “Yes. I’m not wearing a chastity belt for nothing, young man. My body is a temple.”

“It sure is,” Ney said feelingly, leering. He said it as if it were a joke, but only Jesus himself would recognize the utter truth hidden in the playful words. Leo wouldn’t be able to tell, surely?

Leo leaned back against the wall, watching as Neymar, who had a towel around on his waist and was still only wearing underwear underneath, perched on the bed. “You’re pretty cocky for a naked man,” Leo said, his eyebrows raised arrogantly, a slow smile playing around his mouth.

Neymar raised his own eyebrows back, but his heart was fluttering in his chest. “And what makes you think I’m not wearing anything under this?” He gestured towards his towel.

Leo took his time replying, his eyes making a slow, almost insulting perusal of Neymar. By the time he lifted his eyes back to Ney’s, Ney was breathless. “Your towel spread a little too far when you sat down.”

For one second, Neymar actually _forgot_ that he was wearing underwear and his jaw dropped, clamping his legs together as he slammed his hands down onto his thighs. Of course, the realization that he was being played for a fool came hot on its heels, that Leo was just calling his bluff, and he grabbed a pillow and aimed it hard at Leo’s head, bellowing, “YOU ASSHOLE!”

Leo caught the pillow easily, his reflexes excellent, and leaned against the wall, laughing so hard he couldn’t quite speak. “You’re such a goddamned idiot,” Leo said after a few minutes, when he’d finally gotten his breath back. “Even _I_ saw your boxers when you sat down.”

“Oho!” Ney said, seizing on that. He was too immature to be the better person here. “OHO!”

Leo frowned, raising his eyebrows. “What, Santa?”

“So you _were_ looking, though, weren’t you?” Ney wiggled his eyebrows, crossing his arms and leaning back, completely satisfied with himself. “Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

For the first time, Leo didn’t have a comeback. Instead, his cheeks coloured—to Ney’s utter delight. “I wouldn’t be so cocky for someone who was just staring at my _stomach_.”

Ney’s grin was wicked. “But which is worse? Staring at someone’s crotch or their stomach?”

Leo sputtered as Ney cackled, unable to believe he’d won. When it was clear Leo had completely lost, that he had nothing to say, not one word, Ney jumped up and started dancing, shaking his butt and throwing his hands in the air. “I won, I won, I WOOONNNNN!” he sang, energetically moving his body.

Leo watched in disgust as Ney kept dancing, moving closer to Leo as he remained unmoving, still leaning against the wall. When they were just inches apart, Neymar turned around, bending over and shaking his butt at Leo in a manner that was more comical than sexy.

His towel had long fallen off and he was now in his blue boxers, though he was starting to feel the chill. Leo, his lip curling, huffily turned to leave the bedroom but Ney turned with blinding speed, placing a hand on Leo’s chest to stop him.

Leo stopped willingly, even though his expression remained disgruntled. His eyes met Ney’s, dark brown against Neymar’s greenish hazel. They were only inches apart, Ney’s breaths coming fast and hard after his “exertions”.

Ney, feeling bold and confident, pushed Leo’s chest gently and Leo allowed himself to be gently maneuvered against the wall. They looked at each other, Ney still smiling and Leo with amused, dark eyes.

“Yes?” Leo asked, his voice low and rumbly. He sounded indulgent and also… _sexy_? Maybe that was just in Neymar’s head, though—maybe he just found Leo endlessly sexy now.

“So I was thinking,” Neymar drawled, grinning, his heart beating fast at their closeness, “That I deserve a reward for winning.”

Something soft and also like a smile was entering into Leo’s eyes and he raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what reward is that?”

Ney cocked his head, his hand still on Leo’s chest, gently drumming his fingers against Leo, prolonging and thoroughly enjoying the contact. “Hmm,” he said, pretending to think. “Let’s see. What would give you the most pain?”

Leo shook his head, but he was starting to smile despite himself. “Tell me, you demon. What do you want?”

“I mean, I deserve a reward, right?”

“That’s debatable.”

“Right?” Ney insisted, pressing his fingers gently into Leo’s chest, plucking at his shirt.

Leo sighed a little, his mouth curved up into a smile. “Right.”

“Well, then, you have to give it to me, right?”

Leo’s eyes were watchful now, sharper, wondering. “Well…” he said, trailing off.

Neymar, on the other hand, was growing more embarrassed, almost shy, his eyes dropping a little, his cheeks flushing. But he forced himself to meet Leo’s eyes again, forced himself not to lose this confident edge. “You have to give it to me,” Ney insisted, Leo’s shirt fisted in his hand.

Leo’s hand came up over his, slowly forcing him to relax his hold, but Leo didn’t force Ney to let go, merely keeping both their hands over his chest, his heartbeat strong and sure under Ney’s hand.

The moment felt profound—and, for one insane moment, Neymar wondered what was going to happen—wondered what would happen if he said _it_.

“Yes,” Leo said very quietly. “I would give it to you.”

“Anything?” Neymar asked softly. Both their smiles had dropped now and they were just looking at each other, the moment heavy between them.

Leo swallowed, looking hard at Ney. But there was no hesitation in his reply: “Anything,” he said, his voice strong if not loud.

“Then,” Ney said, forcing himself to smile, forcing him to remember that there was a Kun in the picture, that Leo was not his for the taking, “Then I want you to let me watch you play your next game.”

For one second, there was absolutely no reaction from Leo—and then his eyes widened a little and he smiled, a little slowly at first, but then fully. “That’s really what you want?” he asked, and Neymar could almost hear the doubt in Leo’s voice, which confused him. Why _wouldn’t_ Ney want to go see Leo play?

It didn’t occur to him that maybe Leo was asking about something else.

“Yes,” Ney said happily, the tension fully broken now.

There was happiness in Leo’s face, but also slight confusion—which Ney genuinely couldn’t figure out. “You got it, silly. There’s a game this weekend—you can come for that one.” He straightened up, disengaging Neymar from him, pushing him gently away. He moved to the door, but then paused and turned back to look at Ney.

Something about his expression arrested Neymar, who stood stock still. “What?” Ney breathed after a while, unable to take the suspense.

Leo shook his head, smiling ruefully. “I was just trying to remember something. Come on, get dressed. I made you breakfast. It’ll get cold.”

And, with that, he closed the door behind him to give Neymar some privacy, leaving him confused and happy—but mostly happy.

 

* * *

 

 

Geri picked Ney up for the game—he’d managed to get a small knock in his calf and so the doctor had advised him one to two weeks of rest. Not having to play today meant that they could go a little later to the stadium—and he’d been nice enough to offer Neymar a ride once Ney’d casually mentioned that he was coming.

As usual, Neymar buckled himself and then began to pray, bracing himself as Geri screamed through corners and sped like the devil was chasing them. “Have you ever gotten a ticket?” Ney asked, thrilled despite himself when Geri screeched past a tiny car and almost got run over by a truck.

Geri chuckled, expertly weaving through traffic without using his turn signals at all. “You wouldn’t believe it, but no.”

Ney shook his head, smiling. “You jocks—you guys are all born under a lucky star or something. I can’t figure it out.”

Gerard’s grin was very white. “Oh, I’ve been pulled over for speeding before,” he said cheerfully. Neymar glanced at him in surprise, momentarily forgetting to watch the road. “I just never get a ticket,” he said, winking.

Ney’s lips parted as the coin dropped. “So you charm your ass out of it? What, you only got female cops on you, or something?”

Geri laughed. “Never once got a woman cop. It was all dudes.”

“Th-then how?” Ney sputtered.

Geri kept laughing, sounding truly amused. They squeezed through a light that was turning red, his tires screeching as Geri accelerated. “You just gotta explain shit to them, man. Keep them talking and you’ll never get a ticket. Gotta make them get to know you—you can’t ticket someone you know. Get me?”

Neymar shook his head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable! You gotta teach me, though, okay?”

Geri threw him a glance, driving one-handed and braking so hard that Neymar’s seatbelt locked, clenching tight around his chest. “You’re charming too, though. How have you not found a use for it yet?”

Ney’s grin was blinding. “I’m an angel, I’d never do anything like that.”

Geri snorted and they fell into silence, Neymar pondering Geri’s words. It was true that he was charming—he knew it, everyone knew it. It was hard _not_ to know the effect of his personality on people. Everyone automatically gravitated to him; he was almost always the center of attention wherever he went; he could usually persuade people to do anything; and even when he made people mad, they softened up real quick.

Of course, the knowledge of it had always been both the temptation and the armour against using it. He’d been pretty cavalier about how he’d used people growing up, but it had taken being used by someone even more charming than him to realise that it wasn’t right—Felipe hadn’t taught him much but he’d taught him that.

In fact, Ney thought, the one person he’d never tried to charm was Leo. It had been a combination of things, really—he’d been realer with Leo than he’d been with anyone else he’d liked. He truly thought it was due to the fact that Leo was a guy—not that Neymar had never been with a guy or anything like that or that it was anything new, but just that feeling something for a _new_ guy had disarmed him in a way he hadn’t expected.

For that reason, and that reason alone, Leo knew him better than a lot of other people who’d known him for a lot longer.

Ney was jerked from his thoughts as Geri quickly pulled into the parking lot, braking the car so suddenly that Neymar fell forward a little, the seatbelt holding him in place. Shaking his head, he glanced at Geri who looked handsome, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

“You good?” Geri said, chucking Neymar on the chin.

Neymar batted his hand away, making a huffing noise, ignoring Geri’s laughter. “Yes, you maniac. Let’s go in.”

They strolled into the stadium entrance, Ney feeling small next to Geri’s tall frame. Geri waved and said hi to at least 15 people by the time they had entered into the stadium.  As they were moving down the stairs, Neymar saw a beautiful girl a little way off with frizzy blond curls smiling at Geri—who suddenly turned red.

Interested, Ney looked at the girl again. He recognized her suddenly as the dancer who’d performed in their college talent show—she’d done a belly dance and been utterly mesmerizing. She was less magnetic now sitting in the bleachers with her friends, but her smile was sweet and her eyes were trained on Geri’s.

Geri was still red by the time they went down all the way to almost the front where the rest of the jocks were sitting. Ney nudged him hard as they sat down. “You and her, huh?”

Geri shook his head, avoiding Neymar’s eyes which amused him even more. “She’s a senior. Stop.”

Grinning, Ney turned in his seat and saw that the pretty blonde was still looking at them and he waved at her. She blushed but waved back. He gestured towards her to come sit with them while Geri hissed and swore next to him.

“What’re you doing?” Geri was utterly tense and even the back of his neck had gone red.

Ney smiled innocently. “What? I just want to meet your friend.” He looked back at the blonde and saw that she was looking uncertain, unsure of whether he meant his invitation. But he stood up and yelled across to her, while Geri wrung his hands and tried to act like he hadn’t noticed all this ruckus. “COME SIT WITH US! WE HAVE ROOM! BRING ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS!”

She was still looking uncertain and shaking her head a little so Neymar, now thoroughly in his element—not to mention this was payback for all the shit Geri had put him through with Leo—, jogged up the bleachers to one or two seats down from her. He was vaguely aware that Geri had shouted his name once and then turned quickly back to the front, trying to pretend he wasn’t involved in this.

“Hi!” he said when he was finally close enough to her. She was smiling and a little nervous. “I’m Neymar, you?” He extended a hand.

She shook it, her fingers cool. She was even prettier up close, her mouth wide and her smile sweet. “Shakira.”

“Cool name! You gotta tell me more about it. But why don’t you come sit with us up front? We got some room and also you know Geri, right?”

At the name, Shakira blushed, glancing down to look at the back of Geri’s head. “Are you sure he won’t mind?”

Ney waved a hand gallantly. “Why would he? Come on. We have room for two of you so why don’t you bring a friend?”

Shakira was smiling. “Are you sure?” Her eyes were still straying to Geri who was sitting tensely, staring unseeingly in front of him. He was too far out of earshot but Ney could tell he was straining to hear.

“Definitely!” Ney said cheerfully. He reached a hand out to help her climb down the bleachers and that seemed to decide it for her. She picked up her bag and glanced around to her friend on the right. “Will you come, Laura?”

Laura, of course, was enthusiastic. Shakira slipped her hand into Neymar’s, allowing him to help her climb down and when she got her balance, she let go of his fingers, making her own way down. Laura shrugged off his help, hopping down on her own.

Neymar grinned, following them both down. He promptly sat down on one side of Geri—with Laura plopping down on Ney’s other side. Shakira sat down next to Geri and even though Geri made sure to glare at Neymar for one second, he then immediately turned to Shakira.

“Hey, Shak! Looking great.”

“Thanks! You look good too.”

They smiled at each other and Ney interjected cheerfully. “And me! I look good too. And, Laura, you look fantastic.”

Laura grinned. “Thank you! How nice of you.”

They turned back to Geri who was glaring openly at Neymar. Ney innocently blinked at him. “You don’t think Laura looks fantastic, Geri?” He gestured at Laura.

Geri smoothed his expression and smiled at Laura mechanically. “Of course I do.” But immediately he turned back to Neymar and whispered, “I’m going to fucking _murder_ you.”

He then returned his attention to Shakira and they resumed their conversation. Ney grinned, laughing to himself.

“You enjoyed that, huh,” Laura said, smiling.

Ney shook his head. “He deserves it, believe me.”

She laughed. “I don’t even want to know.”

Ney laughed at that too. They engaged in small talk for a bit before branching out to sports. Laura _loved_ soccer and it turned out she played on the women’s team. Ney felt a bit bad at how little he knew—or cared about—the women’s team and resolved to go watch a few more games after this weekend.

When he confessed that this was his first time watching their team play, she gasped. “But they’re a record-breaking team! I mean, you should at least watch for Messi!”

That caught his attention. Trying to be casual, he shaded his eyes, as if blinded by the sun. “Is he good?”

She clutched her heart a little dramatically and sighed. “Oh, Ney. He’s incredible.”

He laughed and she looked a little offended. “Sorry,” he said, chuckling. “It’s just that you remind me of someone I know.” Rafaella. She’d looked exactly like Rafaella just then, all dramatic and moony about Leo. “But tell me more about Messi. How good could he be?” He pretended to be a little skeptical, but he felt himself leaning towards her eagerly, almost waiting for her to praise Leo.

“He’s… indescribable, dude. It’s… it’s not something I can explain. You gotta watch.”

A little disappointed, he shrugged and moved on to other topics, laughing together about a professor they had both shared who’d been positively crazy. Ney was in the middle of an anecdote, shouting over the announcer and the music blasting in the stadium, when the players began to walk out on the field.

There was a welcoming roar as the students began to chant their anthem. Neymar squinted as they all stood, looking for Leo. He was shocked to realise how small Leo looked from up here. He was tiny, truly, especially so in comparison to the tall players on the field.

Smiling, he leaned forward as they took their seats, bracing his elbows on his knees. He felt his heart beat in excitement, hoping Leo would score.

As the ref blew the first whistle, the ball began to be passed around. Leo moved around, mostly walking, seeming to be strolling. Blinking, Ney watched him for a few minutes, unsure.

Was this it?

“Are you watching him?” Laura shouted over the din.

Neymar blinked. “Are _you_? What am I supposed to be seeing?” He looked at her and saw that she was laughing. “What? What’s so funny?”

She shook her head. “Just keep watching. You’ll get it. Don’t take your eyes off him as much as possible.”

Neymar frowned, privately thinking everyone was insane but he focused on Leo. (Frankly, he would have watched Leo even if he was _bad_.) After a minute or two, Leo got the ball and paused, considering the attack in front of him and then passed to someone near him.

Well, that wasn’t exciting either.

But Neymar kept watching and soon Leo got the ball again. This time, Leo stood with his feet planted, in a stand off with a player from the other team. It seemed like such a long moment before Leo suddenly darted one way causing the play to follow him. But Ney suddenly realised that Leo had feinted when he accelerated in the opposite direction. The defender had been completely thrown off.

Feet stuck to the ball, he began to dribble—and, suddenly, it was magic. Because he was dribbling past one, his left foot pushing the ball to his right foot before pushing it back to his favoured foot, causing one defender to fall down. And still he kept going until a third defender took him out, fouling him harshly.

Leo fell in a heap and, instead of whining or complaining, he quietly got to his feet, watching as the ref handed out a yellow card and a free kick.

Utterly mesmerized just by this one dribble, Ney turned to Laura who was smiling. “Don’t stop watching,” she said, nudging him.

He turned back and kept watching, his eyes wide as he took it in. Leo took the free kick but it went over the goal and Ney let out a sigh of disappointment.

But it didn’t matter. Time and time again, Messi dribbled, moving astonishingly lightly through bodies, his feet quick and mesmerizing, his movements graceful and moving too fast to make sense. How did he think that quickly?

It was astonishing. Astonishing.

His passes were light and weighted perfectly, landing on his teammates’ boots as if it had been destined. Sometimes, when he passed, it moved into what had been a previously empty space, except now—now a teammate was running into that spaceand now that teammate was scoring.

It was as if Leo could see passes that no one could.

Leo had _seen_ that, had seen something Neymar hadn’t.

The goalscorer turned immediately and ran directly to Leo, who stood with his arms spread. He lifted Leo and whirled him and Ney could see even from his seat how happy Leo was to have assisted his teammate, how happy he was to see his teammate score.

And, suddenly, tears filled Neymar’s eyes.

Because this person he liked, this person who he was friends with, this person who he’d quietly started having feelings for—this person was a _good_ person.

He’d known that, of course. He’d known Leo was a nice person with a good heart, but it hadn’t occurred to Neymar how much—or perhaps the fact hadn’t quite _hit_ him. But now, looking at him, Ney was suddenly assailed with the knowledge that Leo lived life like he played soccer: true to himself, honest, and unfailingly unselfish.

And no person who was like that could _hurt_ him.

He sat down abruptly, his knees weak with the knowledge, with the realization that he’d lucked out with Leo. That he should never ever jeopardize their friendship—because he would never get a friend like Leo again.

And no crush was worth risking that.

 

* * *

 

When the game was over, Ney followed Geri and Shak—both of whom had spent all game flirting and talking—down to the edge of the field where only a few people were allowed. It would have been awkward without Laura, but she made it less embarrassing for him—he didn’t feel like such a third wheel when she was next to him, quietly scrolling on her phone.

Ney felt excitement low in his belly despite himself—he wanted to be calm about Leo, but they also hadn’t seen each other in a few days and he was so _excited_. He couldn’t wait and he couldn’t stop smiling, butterflies fluttering in his chest.

When Leo finally showed up, there was an immediate commotion as he was hugged and congratulated by teammates—he’d scored two goals and assisted two more.

Ney watched with an almost paternal air, smiling with pride as Leo accepted all the congratulations shyly. Delighted, Ney realised he didn’t _like_ the attention. The knowledge made him like Leo even more.

When Leo finally realised he was there, a smile lit his face, delight filling his eyes. He jogged over immediately as if he couldn’t wait another second and Neymar suddenly found himself moving too, as if he couldn’t keep his feet in one place.

Leo planted his feet when Ney was almost there, bracing himself and Ney threw himself at Leo. Leo staggered a little at his weight, but held his ground, staying upright. He smelled like soap and shampoo and Ney found himself smiling, his heart full.

When they finally unwrapped from each other (Ney with reluctance), he blurted, “You… you were amazing.” He shook his head, slightly breathless from the hug. “I… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Leo looked embarrassed. “That’s because you’ve never watched any soccer,” he said jokingly.

“No,” Neymar insisted earnestly, “You were—”

But they were interrupted by another teammate and Neymar politely made way for the guy to congratulate Leo, stepping aside. Just as he was moving away, Leo squeezed his arm. “You’re coming to the after party right?”

Ney nodded, even though he hadn’t been planning to. After all, how could he say no?

But when he turned back to Geri and Shak, his heart brimming with joy, he realised someone had joined them.

Kun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you didn't get the mariah carey reference btw, it's a meme where she replied "i don't know her" re: jennifer lopez, i think. and the hilarity of that answer took a life of its own on the internet as things do. 
> 
> also i've decided to set myself a public deadline. because private ones aren't working. so the next chapter will be posted on april 19th, 6 pm est. now i'll have to write!


	15. Heartaches and Come-Ons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u believe that actual deadlines work!!!! 
> 
> this chapter is a bit shorter than my usual chapters, but i figure you'll forgive me once you read it. muhahaha
> 
> also someone said this was the slowest of the slow burns and that really made me laugh because a) it's true and b) i already knew what was coming in this chapter so this chapter is dedicated to that commenter. you really made me smile, much love <3

Neymar gave himself an intense pep talk on the ride back to Geri and Leo’s place. _This_ time, he found himself squashed in the backseat—Shakira had been invited (extremely sweetly!) to the front seat—and poor Ney relegated to the back, crammed in with Laura, Kun and Leo like sardines in a can.

 

Once Shakira and Geri had climbed in, it was Leo that had been the one to get into the car next, sliding over all the way to the window behind the driver’s seat. Kun— _naturally_ —clambered in right behind him, leaving Laura and Ney standing awkwardly on the sidewalk.

 

Neymar had hesitated, not wanting to put himself through _that_ hell—the hell in which he had to sit next to Kun and listen to Kun and Leo whisper sweet nothings to each other—and his hesitation had lasted long enough for Laura to shrug in impatience and climb inside.

 

Dithering has its own reward, it seemed.

 

Laura leaned against his shoulder, bringing him sharply back from his daydreaming, saying under her breath, “What’re the parties like?”

 

Ney, distracted from the inner monologue he’d been having—he’d been sternly telling himself to stay calm and _not_ get upset tonight—, turned towards her, smiling absently. “Mm?” He said, the question not quite sinking in. “Oh! They’re awesome,” he said, grinning. “The last time I went to one, I got super drunk and danced on a table.” He shook his head. “Totally blacked out.”

 

He determinedly kept those _other_ memories at bay. No need to fuck himself over tonight.

 

Laura’s answering grin was mischievous. “Dancing on a table? Now _that_ is something I have to see.”

 

Ney laughed and both Leo and Kun turned their heads toward them in surprise. Neymar smiled at both of them, his eyes involuntarily lingering on Leo, who winked surreptitiously. Fighting the stupid silly smile that was making its way across his face, Ney murmured cheerfully to Laura: “I am a _fantastic_ dancer. You’ll love it.”

 

She smiled, her eyes lowering a little to his mouth before looking back to her phone. He leaned back against the seat and looked out the window, feeling slightly better. At least, if the night went badly, he could always entertain himself with Laura. Although he certainly was _not_ going to drink. He’d learned too much from the last party—no blacking out or making involuntary declarations of love _this_ time, that’s for damn sure—and he was smart enough to know that having an intense crush on Leo—still newly discovered, on top of everything—was _not_ the greatest companion to alcohol.

 

Ney braced himself as the car ripped through a stop sign, everyone in the backseat involuntarily falling back against their seats. He glanced towards the front seats and smiled ruefully at the sight of Geri laughing and talking to Shakira, the colour in his cheeks high. It would be a miracle if they made it to the apartment alive.

 

Ney grinned to himself—he was going to have to do some mischief there tonight. Just for fun, of course. Harmless stuff.  Nothing to _ruin_ Geri’s chances or anything, but payback was a bitch.

 

A bitch called Neymar.

 

Feeling much better about his plans for the night, his mood increasingly buoyant, he smiled to himself.

 

He wasn’t going to spend the whole time mooning over Leo, _that_ was for damn sure.

 

* * *

 

Forty five minutes into the party, Ney was most definitely mooning over Leo.

 

He sighed at the irony, eyeing the vodka bottles with longing. He’d been so convinced that he could control himself, that he wouldn’t be affected by the sight of Kun and Leo canoodling—and, really, there was no other word for what they were doing—but he was finding that these things weren’t as easy as making a mental decision.

 

When they’d first arrived to the apartment, it had seemed as if Leo had wanted to talk to him, but Kun had whisked Leo to the couch to get a drink in him. Neymar had watched out of the corner of his eye as Leo smiled exasperatedly at Kun, shaking his head. Since then, whenever Ney tried to make eye contact with him, Leo had been in the center of a group of guys, all vying for his attention.

 

Kun, meanwhile, had been by Leo’s side almost the entire time, his hands somehow always on Leo’s person, either skimming his back or sliding up to cup his neck. One time Kun slipped his fingers into Leo’s hair, soft and sweet and Leo tipped his head up to look at Kun—and the moment was so… so _much_ that Ney almost cried.

 

Almost.

 

He stayed strong, though. He refused to give in and, in the interest of self-preservation, began to studiously avoid looking at Leo. It didn’t really work, of course, and, as the night progressed, Ney found his eyes drifting towards Leo more and more.

 

When the dancing started and Kun pulled Leo onto the dance floor, Neymar found himself almost electrified, stilled by jealousy and an ache in his chest. Leo moved smoothly to the music, not exactly graceful but definitely looser than Ney had ever seen. At least he could follow the rhythm, he thought, a watery smile fleetingly passing across his face.

 

Transfixed, Neymar watched jealously, his eyes riveted, as Kun’s hands slid up Leo’s arms, plucking at his T-shirt. With a savage pleasure, Ney noted that Leo didn’t touch Kun as much as Kun touched _him_ , but he did sling an arm around Kun once or twice, throwing his hands up in the air as they sang and danced.

 

It felt like Ney had forgotten how to move or how to swallow—his throat was so dry it was as if he was swallowing dust.

 

He had been standing at the entrance of the kitchen, at an angle where Leo could see him but only barely—he’d have to twist and search for him. (Of course, Leo wasn’t doing that.) It was convenient for Neymar, allowing him to watch Leo as openly as he chose without anyone truly noticing. It was like being fully invisible while standing in everyone’s line of sight.

 

Ney wished he could move, wished he could leave but instead he kept watching, kept watching as Kun poured a drink down Leo’s throat, as they laughed and leaned against each other.

 

But when Kun’s hand slid up Leo’s chest, his mouth going to Leo’s ear to whisper something, something inside Neymar finally snapped.

 

What was he _doing_?

 

 _Why_ was he watching this? Why was he torturing himself?

 

He turned on his heel, turning blindly into the hallway, fighting the crowd of people, most of them drunkenly kissing or dancing, his feet remembering more than he consciously did, directing him to one of the bedrooms.

 

Only when he knocked on the door and opened it did he realise that it was Leo’s bedroom. Suddenly, the memories of that _first_ party flooded into his brain, his little sister, Rafaella, and Leo, standing inside Messi’s walk-in closet and talking for ages.

 

Ney closed the bedroom door behind him, the cool silence of the bedroom a balm to his feverish mind. Letting himself drop down, he sat on the edge of Leo’s bed, his eyes roaming the bedroom, taking it all in.

 

That night with Rafaella, he hadn’t known any of this would happen, that he would fall for Leo the way he had. But he wouldn’t take back that night—watching Rafaella and Leo talk and giggle and bond had been something special.

 

He hadn’t had any feelings for Leo _then_ , but maybe that moment had been the catalyst. Maybe it had opened his eyes to who Leo was, the _true_ Leo, the one buried under all that grim quietness. It was true that he’d been astonished at how different and gentle Leo was with Ney’s little sister.

 

Sure enough, a few hours after that conversation with Rafaella—well, things _changed_ then. That night was still murky—he didn’t think he’d ever fully get all the details back in crystal clarity—but something profound had happened to Neymar that night, the beginning of some sizzling attraction between the two of them.

 

No, that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t _between_ the two of them—it was solely one-sided and all Neymar.

 

He sighed. And he hadn’t even _known_ it then. All this time, his feelings had slowly been growing, burgeoning quietly, and he hadn’t even _realised_ it until that _dream_ —that stupid _stupid_ manifestation of his hidden subconscious.

 

Sighing, his chest aching, he flopped backwards, his feet still touching the floor. He closed his eyes, listening to the pulsing music outside the bedroom, not loud enough to disturb the neighbours but loud enough for Neymar to hear it clearly from the bedroom.

 

His eyes burned behind the closed lids and he swallowed hard. He wished he hadn’t ever found out that he’d liked Leo—things would have been so much easier.

 

Ignorance really was bliss.

 

If he hadn’t known, he would have been out there right now. He could have handled Kun touching Leo like that, could have handled Leo leaning against him and allowing Kun to pet him.

 

No, maybe some part of him would never have truly been okay with that—whether he’d known about his feelings for Leo or not.

 

But it didn’t matter. All of this was _what if_ conversations. And that was pointless. The point really was that now he felt _shaken_. How was he supposed to keep being friends with Leo when it hurt so much?

 

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to stem the tears when suddenly he heard footsteps outside the bedroom. Frowning, he turned his head towards the door, still lying back, praying that the person would just go to the bathroom and not enter the bedroom.

 

But the footsteps continued all the way to the door and then the doorknob began to turn. When the door slipped open noiselessly, Neymar was almost unsurprised.

 

It _would_ be Leo, Ney mused, cursing his own luck.

 

Leo looked tipsy and flushed, smiling lopsidedly as he leaned against the doorjamb for a moment (probably getting his balance back), looking at Neymar. “ _There_ you are!” Seemingly delighted with his discovery, he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

 

Heart pounding, Neymar sat up, feeling uncomfortable and smiling awkwardly.

 

Why had he chosen Leo’s _bedroom_?

 

“Hi, tipsy. I was just feeling a bit tired.” His voice sounded too hearty, almost overtly cheery. But Leo was too drunk to notice anyway. “What’re you…” his voice trailed off as Leo kept approaching, coming to stand in between Neymar’s spread legs.

 

Neymar felt his throat close up, his heart skipping a beat before pounding hot and hard in his chest. Leo stood very close to Ney, his thighs firmly wedged by Neymar’s own, the heat of Leo’s thighs burning through his pants, scorching Ney.

 

Leo’s fingers went dreamily into his hair and Ney watched with dry-eyed lust as Leo sifted his fingers through Neymar’s strands.

 

“You look so good today,” Leo said, his voice low and fluid. He was leaning against the bed now, half his weight on Ney’s thighs. “So handsome.”

 

Leo rested his hand on Ney’s shoulder, and immediately Neymar knew there was trouble ahead. Sure enough, Leo made to push Neymar down on the bed. Ney managed to somehow scramble up, his mind screaming. He twisted away from Leo, only managing to do so because Messi was so uncoordinated from the alcohol. “Leo,” he said, his voice unsteady, “what’re you doing?”

 

Leo frowned at him, his forehead puckering adorably. “I’m trying to kiss you.”

 

Neymar genuinely thought that, if he’d been fifty years older, he might have actually had a heart attack. But instead, after a moment or two of stunned silence in which Neymar’s brain tried to process what he’d just heard, when the roaring in his ears had finally subsided, he mumbled very intelligently, “Huh?”

 

To Ney’s surprise, Leo smiled wickedly, throwing Neymar off until he realized that Leo had been distracted by something. Instead of replying, Leo moved forward with purpose and, belatedly, Neymar realised by Leo’s focused gaze that he’d gotten distracted by Ney’s _lips_ and was honing in on them like a bee to a flower.

 

Yelping, Ney leapt aside, leaving Leo staggering slightly. “Leo!” He squeaked, his voice very high. “What are you _doing_?”

 

But there was a part of him, a very large part, that was absolutely fucking thrilled. A part of him that wanted to die of joy, a part that wanted nothing more than to kiss Leo forever here in his bedroom—and definitely on his _bed_.

 

But a very sane minority of him couldn’t stop repeating Kun’s name. Almost like a grim warning to himself. Neymar didn’t want to be the “other man”—he was never going to be a willing participant to cheating. He hadn’t before and he wasn’t about to start now.

 

But Leo didn’t seem interested in conversations. Instead, seemingly exasperated by Ney, he just kept advancing, until Ney was finally backed up into the wall.

 

“Okay, wait, _wait_!” Neymar cried, thoroughly flustered, half-panicked, most definitely thrilled, his hands extended as if to keep Leo away.

 

Leo didn’t stop, but he slowed, inching closer, all the while looking absolutely disgruntled at Neymar’s response. His face seemed to say: _this isn’t fuuuun_ (with full whiny voice included).

 

It was intoxicating, of course, that Leo wanted to kiss him—even if he was drunk as a skunk. Because _Neymar_ wanted it so bad. Hadn’t he pictured this very moment a thousand times? Leo approaching him, Leo trying to kiss him, Leo _wanting_ him?

 

Leo looked adorably befuddled once he came even closer to Ney. “Don’t you want me to kiss you?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

 

Ney reminded himself that Leo was absolutely drunk but he flushed wildly anyway. “I—Leo, that is—” he stuttered as Leo moved even closer, his mind going slightly numb as he started to feel Messi’s body heat from the proximity.

 

But Leo was getting distracted again, his eyes drifting to Ney’s mouth. “Mm,” he said. He looked up at Ney’s eyes and seemed to remember he’d asked a question. “Tell me, Neyma _r_.” He rolled the _r_ a little, caressing it in his mouth a little. “Do you want a kiss?” His eyes, dark and blurry with alcohol, burned with passion.

 

Passion for _Ney_.

 

How could Ney answer? And when he stayed absolutely silent—just a silent, panting presence—overwhelmed with Leo’s closeness, his scent and his _words_ , not to mention his mouth being _so fucking close_ to Ney’s, Leo seemed to take that as an indication that Ney needed some persuading. “I’m a good kisser,” Messi murmured, moving even closer, their mouths only inches apart. “It’ll be good,” he said, his voice so low now that Neymar almost missed the slight slurring.

 

They were both breathing hard now, their breaths mingling, and Neymar was starting to feel hot—not excited hot but actually _warm_.

 

(Although, frankly, he was feeling pretty hot both ways.)

 

“Leo, I…” But his mind wasn’t working. No words were coming together. He was just overwhelmed, intoxicated by Leo. At that precise moment, all he wanted was Leo.

 

He would have given anything to be kissed by Leo. Just once. Just one time.

 

Leo took Neymar’s silence as permission and his fingers began to drift, slipping up slowly to cup the back of Ney’s neck, playing with the curls low at the base of his head. Ney shivered, his eyes half-shutting at the sensations, his mouth parting.

 

Messi moved forward a little, letting his body settle against Neymar, letting Neymar adjust to the sensation. They had touched like this before, of course, when they’d hugged—but this was different. The slowness in which Leo sank into Ney made him feel everything in gradations, the sensations exquisite.

 

He was being seduced, he thought wildly as Leo fingers continued to play with his hair. It was too much, all the more because he hadn’t been expecting it. He felt dizzy and confused, his body burning and on fire, Leo everywhere—his whole world filled with Leo.

 

It seemed the moment went on forever, with the two of them just on the brink of a kiss, Leo somehow moving in closer without ever quite kissing him. _Even if we don’t kiss_ , Ney thought, his mind reeling, _this’ll be enough._

 

But then, finally, _finally_ , when Neymar thought he’d die of waiting, it happened. Leo’s mouth touched his first, searing Neymar, setting him on fire, his lips throbbing with sensation. His whole world had boiled down to this one center of contact, their lips touching and not quite kissing.

 

But that ended quickly as Leo pressed into him, his mouth firming, the pressure increasing—and then Neymar _finally_ started kissing him back. It was dizzyingly good, Leo’s mouth warm and tasting of beer, bitter and sweet all at once.

 

And that’s when they heard the knock. Gasping, Neymar tore his mouth from Leo and, without really thinking, pushed him quickly into the walk-in closet, closing the door behind them quietly just as they heard Leo’s bedroom door open.

 

It was dark in the closet and Ney didn’t dare turn on the lights in case whoever had walked into the bedroom noticed. “Ssh,” he breathed into Leo’s ear in the darkness, his hands clutching Leo’s shirt.

 

They were quiet for a few moments, their hearts pounding as the couple in the bedroom talked, the woman gently giggling and the man talking in a low rumble. Neymar was so distracted by the couple, he almost cried out when he felt the sudden sensation of Leo’s lips against his ear.

 

Gasping, he tried to disentangle himself from Messi in the darkness as noiselessly as possible, but Leo followed him and Ney found himself pressed against the walk-in closet door, chest heaving as Leo nuzzled against his ear.

 

When Leo bit his earlobe gently, Neymar felt his crotch pulse, and he took in a sharp breath, cutting off the moan that threatened to follow. “Leo,” he whispered even as his eyes closed in pleasure. “We can’t do this, Leo. It’s not right. What about Kun?”

 

“Hmm?” Leo murmured, too busy investigating Neymar’s neck.

 

Ney let his head fall back as Leo licked a warm stripe up his neck, feeling hard and hot and so _so_ aroused. Panting, unable to stop himself, he slipped his hand up into Leo’s hair.

 

Leo responded by sucking a kiss into Neymar’s neck, painful and so good all at the same time. Ney couldn’t help himself and his hips bucked forward, grinding into Leo, who responded by pressing forward with his own pelvis.

 

Head spinning, Neymar felt a hot painful ache in his throat. He wanted Leo desperately and he was so tired of denying himself this—if Leo wasn’t stopping, why should he?

 

So he pulled Leo up by the hair, searching in the darkness, desperate. When their mouths crashed together, Ney couldn’t stop himself from moaning softly, the pleasure of finally kissing Leo _unrestrainedly_ too much for him to bear.

 

But Leo bit his lower lip and drew it into his mouth, sucking slowly on it. “Slowly,” he whispered after releasing Ney’s lip. “We’ve got time.”

 

But they didn’t. Neymar knew that. This was a one-time thing. Tomorrow, Leo would go back to Kun, would probably forget this ever happened. Tomorrow, Ney would be alone. Leo wouldn’t be his.

 

This was the _only_ time, the _only_ moment he had.

 

But he did slow down—because he wanted to savour it. And so he sighed and dropped his head back against the door and let Leo find him in the darkness again. Let Leo fit his mouth against his slowly, let Leo dictate the pace, his mouth warm and soft and wonderful.

 

Neymar let Leo lick into his mouth, let him suck gently on Ney’s lower lip, let him explore Ney’s mouth slowly, unhurriedly. Neymar’s head spun at the pure, unrelenting pleasure as they kissed and kissed and kissed.

 

Ney has almost forgotten how good it was just to _kiss_ someone, just to feel and taste and have this endless pleasure.

 

And in the darkness, it felt timeless. Minutes slipped by as they kissed and kissed, increasing the heat notch by notch, slow degree by slow degree. It made Neymar feel frantic, the sweat dripping down his back, as he began to go crazy, needing more—more than a kiss, more than _this,_ as good as it was.

 

But Leo seemed perfectly happy with this, perfectly happy taking it slow and unhurriedly, his movements languid and languorous, although he returned the pressure of Neymar’s hips with his own.

 

Finally, Ney turned his head away, gasping, too worked up to take it anymore. “Please,” he whispered, “please, please, please.”

 

“Ssh, baby,” Leo murmured into his ear, his voice still slurring. “Stay with me tonight,” he continued, his voice low and rumbly.

 

Neymar felt as if ice cold water had been poured on him. The words brought him back to earth in a way nothing else could. God, had he lost his _mind_? What was he thinking? Leo was in a _relationship._ With a perfectly good person: Kun.

 

This was _wrong._  Leo might be too drunk to know better but Ney wasn’t drunk. Ney couldn’t do this.

 

Scrambling backward, he pushed Leo away. “Leo, no, no.” His voice came out too loud and he winced, wondering if the couple outside would catch them. But then he suddenly realised that it had been too quiet for a long time—the couple had probably left ages ago.

 

Seizing the moment before he changed his mind, he scrabbled for the doorknob and opened it quickly, stumbling into Leo’s bedroom. It was brightly lit and, blinking at the sudden light, Ney felt as if he being woken from a bad—well, also really fucking _good_ —dream.

 

Turning around, he looked at Leo, who had followed him leisurely. Leo was squinting too against the light, but his lips were swollen and redder than normal—but it was only truly evident if one looked for it.

 

And Neymar was looking.

 

Flushing at the evidence of what they’d been doing on Leo’s lips, Ney shook his head in misery. “Leo,” he said, trying to sound businesslike. “Listen, I won’t tell anyone, okay?”

 

Leo was looking confused. “What? What’re you talking about?” He looked delicious and then he waved a hand irritably. “Come here,” he said, almost as if they were wasting time not kissing.

 

Ney shook his head, his heart pounding a little. “Leo, I’m going to keep this a secret, okay? Don’t worry. I won’t tell Kun.”

 

Blinking, Leo moved a little closer. “Why do you keep talking about Kun? Do you like him?” He looked a little angry at the idea.

 

Ney recoiled. “ _No_! But shouldn’t _you_ be thinking about him?”

 

Leo shrugged. “He’s fine out there. He can take care of himself. Now, come here.” He reached for Neymar but Ney leapt aside, stunned by Leo’s cavalier and frankly cruel attitude.

 

“Neymar,” Leo demanded, his movements a little rockier than it should have been. Ney instinctively reached out to steady him and Leo grabbed on tightly. “Ney,” Leo whispered, a hand on Neymar’s arm. “Ney, I like kissing you. I think we should kiss forever.” He smiled broadly, adorably, at Neymar.

 

Neymar felt something squeeze in his chest and, momentarily, he was thoroughly distracted. God, how he _wanted_ Leo.

 

Fucking _Kun._ That bastard was a bit too lucky.

 

Just as Leo leaned forward to kiss Neymar again, there was a loud _bang_ from the living room and they both jumped apart in shock. Ney took advantage of the moment and immediately rushed out of the room, leaving Leo behind him, swaying and a little confused.

 

God, what had Neymar _done?_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KISSES [CAN U BELIEVE!!! ](https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2018-03/7/12/asset/buzzfeed-prod-fastlane-03/sub-buzz-22630-1520442037-8.jpg?downsize=715:*&output-format=auto&output-quality=auto)
> 
> love u all and the next chapter will be posted on may 3rd at 6 pm est <3


	16. Hangovers and Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm technically almost an hour behind schedule but i figure you'll forgive me akjshgkshg. i hope you guys like this chapter because i'm not sure about it. do let me know :)

Neymar slept fitfully, badly, tossing and turning all night. He spent half the night reliving the kisses in an agony of lust, guilt and pure joy and the other half freaking out about what was going to happen next, imagining wild scenarios that very rarely ended well (lots of kissing) and most that ended terribly (not so much kissing).

 

The problem was, he both wanted and didn’t want Leo to remember what had happened. How humiliating would it be if Leo acted perfectly normally, if he didn’t recall a single thing?

 

But how easy. What a way out that would be.

 

Neymar shook his head, slamming his fist into his pillow. No! He wasn’t going to do the same thing this time—he wasn’t going to run away from confrontation, he wasn’t going to be afraid of _talking_.

 

No matter what, he was going to talk to Leo tomorrow. He wasn’t going to be scared.

 

But oh, it was going to be a hellish conversation. He was going to have to _remind_ Leo if he couldn’t remember. And, worse, if he _did_ remember, what then?

 

Neymar didn’t want to break them up. Nor did he want to play a hidden “third man” role in their problems. No, he didn’t want Leo that way. He wasn’t going to ask Leo to choose—of course not.

 

What he was going to do was explain that he wasn’t going to come in their way and that maybe—and Ney swallowed painfully, struggling with the ache in his chest—maybe, they needed some time apart so Leo and Kun could work on their relationship.

 

His eyes burned but he knew it was the right decision. Witness how easily he’d succumbed to Leo last night—a few advances, Leo’s nearness, and he’d melted into a puddle.

 

It wasn’t right; it wasn’t the person he wanted to be.

 

He’d just escaped one toxic relationship—no _way_ was he going to slide right back into another.

 

Even if it was Leo.

 

Neymar groaned. Leo. _Leo_.

 

Why did it have to be this way?

 

And that was when the first few tears leaked out. Turning onto his side, Neymar buried his face in his pillow and let the tears slip free—sliding into his hair and pillow and dripping across the bridge of his nose.

 

He finally fell asleep at around six in the morning, curled into the fetal position, his face stretchy from dried tears.

 

* * *

 

Neymar woke up with a headache. Cursing, he lay on his bed for a few moments, blinking at the sunlight streaming across his room. What was the point of not drinking if you were going to wake up with a headache anyway?

 

But worse than the throbbing in his skull was the weird heavy dread in his chest. Frowning up at the ceiling, he tried to remember why he was upset. Something about… He winced as the memories flooded into his mind.

 

Covering his face with half embarrassment and half the thrill of those kisses, he made a frustrated sound into his hands.

 

Sighing, he dropped his arms and then groped for his phone, hoping he’d kept it by his pillow and not on the nightstand which would force him to have to stretch out to grab it. He’d made a promise to himself that he was going to talk to Leo and he was going to start right now—he was going to message Leo and ask him if they could meet right away.

 

When he found his phone (next to his pillow, thank you very much) he pressed his fingerprint to the lock screen and idly scrolled through his text notifications. When he saw four messages from Leo, he sat up, and then clutched his headboard, head spinning from the sudden movement.

 

When he could finally see clearly again, he took a deep breath and clicked on the text messages, rereading them three times before they sunk in.

 

_Hey Ney_

_Can you come by sometime today? Sometime after 6?_

_Also FYI it’s cause I’ve got a bitch of a hangover and it’ll probably take me half the day to feel like a human again_

 

Fighting to keep from smiling—but failing—Neymar quickly typed back:

 

_Yeh, see you soon!_

 

Unable to help himself, Neymar bounced up from bed and danced into the bathroom. His happiness lasted only that long before he realised exactly what this conversation meant.

 

Well, actually, he _didn’t_ know what it meant, but it was safe to say that it probably wouldn’t go… well. How many options of a good ending were there really here in this scenario, anyway?

 

Sighing, Neymar sat down on the toilet, a toothbrush in his mouth. _Fuck it_. _Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it_! Fuck all of this. He was going to spend the day reliving the kisses (the kisses without any consequences) and then when Leo broke his heart— _if_ Leo broke his heart—well, he’d deal with it then.

 

Right now, he was going to have some goddamn fun.

 

And looking down at his crotch, he grinned.

 

* * *

 

On the way over to Leo’s house, Neymar stayed upbeat even as nervousness begin to creep into his mind. Perhaps the fear had always been there, but he’d kept it at bay almost by sheer will. The thing was, Ney was just tired of being sad over boys. He’d spent _months_ mooning over Felipe—a fuckboy, if there ever was one.

 

Now, this shit with Leo sucked for damn sure, but goddamn, he wasn’t going to cry over it. Whatever happened, he was going to take it.

 

That didn’t mean he didn’t have a ball of dread in his stomach, though. Of _course_ he did. He was potentially going to lose his best friend today. Or maybe… _No_ , he told himself firmly. No point in thinking of best case scenarios when they were never going to happen.

 

The bus ride was over far too quickly and, when he hopped off the bus, he took a second to take a deep breath, enjoying the warmer weather. He’d worn nothing but a white T-shirt and jeans, the cool breeze ruffling his carefully styled hair.

 

It was perhaps slightly chilly, but not enough for Neymar to be truly uncomfortable and after breathing in the fresh air, he began to walk slowly down the street to Leo’s apartment.

 

He buzzed Leo when he entered the building, who let him in without even asking who it was. That amused Neymar and he was still smiling when he got off the elevator onto Leo’s floor. The smile disappeared by the time he’d gotten to Leo’s door. The door had been left ajar by a white tennis shoe.

 

Ney knocked, pushing the door open slightly. “Hello?” His heart was pounding now in nervousness, all the nerves he’d thought had gone coming back in full force. Sweat was slipping down the back of his T-shirt and his stomach was jumping, fluttering.

 

“Come in, door’s open,” a muffled voice called back. As Ney stepped inside, the voice went on. “Lock it behind you, please.” For some reason, the statement made his heart slam hard in his chest and, taking a deep breath, he pulled the shoe from the door, shutting it firmly. Hesitantly, he turned his hand onto the lock, clicking it into place.

 

Neymar moved inside, his socks silent on the carpet. When he entered the living room, his first thought was that it was empty and, for one insane second, Ney genuinely thought Leo was in the bedroom and was awaiting him _there_.

 

But then his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the living room—the curtains were still drawn though it was bright and sunny outside—and he spied a prone figure lying face down on the sofa.

 

It was Leo, his feet facing Neymar, his head turned towards the TV. He peered at Ney through one eye. “Hey,” he said, his voice still a little muffled.

 

Neymar felt the beginnings of amusement flutter in his chest, even though he was nervous. “Let me guess,” he sang extra-loudly. “Is someone hungover?” His voice progressively grew in volume, and, by the end of it, Leo was wincing and had pulled a cushion over his head.

 

“You’re a mean person,” a small voice finally said.

 

Neymar’s laughter was genuine, but he crouched down next to Leo. “You idiot,” he said softly, smiling. “Why’d you tell me to come over if you’re still so sick, dumbass? What can I do for you?” Without thinking, he cupped the back of Leo’s neck and squeezed gently. The cushion obscured most of Leo’s face, allowing Ney to be this close without feeling embarrassed or shy.

 

Leo groaned a little in appreciation. “Do that again,” he said hoarsely. “That felt good.”

 

Ney felt his heart pick up a little, but he firmly told his body to pipe down. _The man is_ ill _. Can we lust after him another day,_ please? His body ignored him, naturally—who didn’t ignore him?—and his stomach continued to jump in pleasure at being so close to Leo again.

 

He was good at giving massages and he moved to a kneeling position to get some leverage, grasping Leo’s neck more firmly, gently kneading and rolling it under his hands. “Pressure fine?”

 

“It’s perfect,” Leo answered after a bit, his voice husky. He almost sounded drowsy. “It’s so good. Marry me.”

 

Neymar shook his head. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me to marry you. Better be careful, you tease,” he replied, keeping his voice low so as not to make Leo’s headache worse. “Did you eat or drink anything today? Take any painkillers? Have a shower?”

 

“What’re you, my mom?” Leo retorted from under the cushion. “I drank some water and had some Advil. Does that count as food?”

 

“Did you only have water when you had the Advil or did you drink throughout the day?”

 

Leo was silent, too silent, a guilty silence which Neymar knew all too well. He sighed. “Leo! You know hangovers come because you’re dehydrated. You’re an athlete! You know better.”

 

“I know,” Leo groaned and this time he finally moved, rolling under Neymar’s hand onto his back, the cushion falling onto the floor. Neymar withdrew his hands to himself, still kneeling next to Leo. “I just felt like I was going to throw up. I’m actually feeling better now.”

 

He _did_ look pale and tired, his eyes slightly reddened. Neymar felt his anger softening. “Can I get you something to eat?” he asked gently. Leo made a face. “Something light? Something refreshing? Maybe some fruit.”

 

Leo still looked like he might say _no_ so Neymar stood up, his mind made up, making his way to the kitchen. But before he could go far, Leo said, “Wait! Where are you going?”

 

“I’m going to get some food and you’re going to eat it. Hey!” He stopped, turning around. “How about some cereal? Would you like that better?” Cereal was simple and had milk—some kind of fluids at least.

 

Leo looked much happier at that suggestion. “Okay. Cereal sounds better than fruit. No fruit.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Neymar headed back to the kitchen. He rummaged in the cupboards, looking for the bowls and cutlery, listening to the silence of Leo’s house until he heard the TV. He paused, waiting, and grinned knowingly when he heard soccer commentary.

 

Of _course_ it was soccer. Smiling to himself, he busied himself for a few minutes getting everything ready before coming back with a bowl of cereal, a banana and two bottles of water tucked under his arm. Leo looked markedly better and had even sat up. Neymar found himself rolling his eyes.

 

“Did you seriously sit up for soccer?”

 

“It’s football,” Leo said absently, staring at the screen. “And I sat up for you, dumbass.”

 

It shouldn’t have been cute, but it was and the warmth spread over Ney’s chest like golden waves. Neymar gave him the bowl of cereal, his fingers trembling slightly. Before he sat down on the other end of the couch, he twitched the curtains open, letting in some bright sunshine into the room. “Finish the whole bowl,” he said firmly.

 

“You’re a dictator,” Leo said, grimacing. “Thank you,” he added, his voice quieter as he began to eat.

 

They sat in silence while Leo ate, watching football silently. Neymar didn’t know either of the teams and daydreamed freely, wondering if this was all they were going to discuss about yesterday. Maybe Leo had genuinely forgotten?

 

He felt the sinking in his chest. Somehow, it felt worse that he’d expected even though he’d prepared for it. He shook his head inwardly, trying to ignore the terrible feeling in his gut, but it was so difficult and the struggle distracted him so much that it took a few seconds before Leo’s voice filtered into his mind.

 

“You don’t care if I turn it off, right?” He was gesturing towards the TV.

 

Neymar blinked. “I thought _you_ were watching.”

 

Leo smiled. The empty cereal bowl had been dumped onto the side table and he was sipping on one of the bottles of water. “It’s an old game. One of the classics. I’ve seen it like ten times before.”

 

“Oh,” Ney said, forcing a smile. He waved a hand. “I don’t mind, leave it on, watch it—I don’t care either way.” He kept his tone airy—as if there was nothing to worry about, as if he had nothing on his mind—as if nothing was bothering him at all.

 

Leo frowned a little, but pressed the ‘Power’ button on the remote, plunging the room into silence. There was some awkwardness in the air, an unspoken tension that Neymar couldn’t quite identify. “Thank you for coming over and for all this.” Leo gestured towards the empty cereal bowl and the uneaten banana.

 

Neymar waved a hand, smiling cheerfully, trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. “You ask and I deliver.”

 

Leo’s eyes sharpened a little at that and, for a second, Ney held his breath, wondering if Leo would take the bait—it _was_ pretty flirtatious if you wanted to look at it that way—but Leo looked away. He seemed nervous and fidgety, rubbing his hands on his shorts and then rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “So I called you over for a reason.”

 

Neymar felt his heart began to pound in his chest. This was it. Leo had beaten him to the punch. He suddenly wished he wasn’t here. Sure, he’d promised himself he’d confront Leo, but in this actual moment, all he wanted was to run away.

 

Far _far_ away.

 

Instead, Neymar tried to look encouraging and not like he wasn’t wishing for a sinkhole to open up directly under his ass. “Mm,” he said.

 

“I… Yesterday… Yesterday, I got pretty drunk,” Leo started, looking extremely uncomfortable. His face and ears had gone red. “I just… I wanted to say sorry for—”

 

 _Sorry_. So Leo hadn’t wanted it. Neymar already knew where this was going and, all of a sudden, he felt like he was going to snap. He broke in, unable to listen to more of this. “It’s okay! Hey, man. You were drunk. Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything to Kun.” He smiled brightly, falsely, his throat choking and dry. “You don’t have to apologise!”

 

But instead of looking relieved, Leo’s eyebrows were coming together, his eyes going blank. “You know, I wasn’t sure if I had made that part up in my head, but here you are saying it again.” His words were slow, measured, careful. Neymar couldn’t figure out what emotion was behind it—Leo looked completely blank.

 

“Saying what?” Ney was genuinely confused now.

 

“That you wouldn’t say anything to Kun.” Leo shook his head, a frown etched into his forehead. “I didn’t get that part last night, but I was too drunk. And when I thought about it today, it just… I wasn’t even sure if you had actually said it, let alone what it meant. I thought talking to you would clear things up, but… I _still_ don’t get it.”

 

Neymar stared. “What’s there to understand? I’m telling you that you’re safe.”

 

Leo’s eyes had gone very dark and, it was so weird, but Ney could _swear_ that Leo was angry. He just didn’t know why. _Why_ would he be angry?

 

“Safe,” Leo said slowly. “Safe from what, Neymar?”

 

The way he was talking, the way he pronounced Ney’s name, soft and every syllable enunciated, the name heavy in Leo’s mouth—it made Ney shiver. Neymar gestured, wildly uncomfortable. “Safe from Kun finding out?”

 

“Because Kun would care.” It was said flatly, but it sounded like a question.

 

Neymar felt utterly lost. “Well, if he doesn’t, then he’s a terrible boyfriend, isn’t he?” he finally snapped, fed up. What were they doing here? Why were they going around in circles? Why was Leo pretending not to understand?

 

 _Uh oh_ , he thought wearily. Leo looked angry at that. Sighing, Neymar opened his mouth to apologise, but Leo cut in, his voice sharp like cut glass. “Neymar, you fucking idiot, I knew it!” Leo’s fist had balled up. “I _knew_ it! It just made no sense that you said that. I kept thinking about it over and over. I just kept thinking _why Kun_? But I didn’t think you were _this_ stupid.”

 

Neymar’s heart was thudding and he felt so hurt, he wanted to scream. “Would you mind explaining why I’m so stupid, maybe?” he asked very coldly, his fingers clenched around his own bottle of water. He was proud at how calm he sounded, how in control. Having to deal with your crush dating someone else was bad enough, but having him call you _stupid_ was just fucking too much.

 

“Neymar,” Leo said, utterly exasperated. “I’m not dating Kun. He’s not my boyfriend. That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?”

 

For a second, all Neymar heard was air rushing through the room while his brain swirled in shock. He couldn’t even speak for a good few seconds. He didn’t even know if his heart was working properly. “What?” he finally breathed, stunned.

 

“You heard me, you _giant_ stupid idiot. I’m not dating Kun.”

 

“You’re not dating Kun?”

 

“No!”

 

“Did you guys break up?” Neymar asked, his eyes wide as a horrible thought struck him: had they broken up because of _him_?

 

“We didn’t break up!” Leo cried in frustration, throwing his hands up. “We _never_ dated. We were _never_ together. Ney, he’s _straight_.”

 

Neymar felt his face turning red, his skin heating up as ideas raced into his mind. Leo hadn’t said _we_ but he’d said _he._ He swallowed, trying to get his dry throat to work. They stared at each other, Leo’s cheeks flushed and his eyes black. “You’re…” Neymar said mindlessly, drifting off into silence, unable to complete the sentence.

 

“Yes, I’m single,” Leo said gently. His cheeks were still flushed and his eyes were flashing even now, but the frustration was leaking out of his face. Instead, his gaze was more intent now, more focused. “Neymar,” he asked quietly, “ _Why_ did you even think we were dating?”

 

“ _Marc_ told me you were!”

 

“Marc who?” Leo asked, confused.

 

“Blond guy! Tall. Looks like some model. He was your goalkeeper in that one match I saw!”

 

“ _Ter Stegen_ told you that?” Leo said incredulously. “ _Why_ did he even tell you that?”

 

“I don’t even remember!” Neymar shook his head. He’d gotten the snake bite that day—he’d been too sick to really take in what Marc had told him. “He just said you were both together! And that you’d been dating forever and just never talked about it.”

 

“And you _believed_ it?” Leo ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Ney, you thought I wouldn’t tell you if I was dating someone? I wouldn’t ever hide someone I loved.”

 

Ney kept silent, some instinct telling him to stay quiet, some instinct telling him that something momentous was going to happen. He kept his eyes on Leo’s face, on the anger and fury displayed there. But there was also something else—and Neymar’s senses were all on high alert, as if _they_ knew something big was coming.

 

“You know what’s even _worse_?” Leo’s eyes met his, hot and flashing. “You thought I’d _kiss_ you when I was dating someone else?”

 

There it was. Neymar swallowed, the blood rushing into his face, his heart pounding in his chest. “I…” he said, but there was nothing to say.

 

“You know,” Leo said almost conversationally, even as his eyes continued to spark. “I could really kill you.”

 

Neymar finally found his voice, a sudden current of strength running through his entire body. “I _wish_ I had known,” he murmured fervently. Almost to himself, almost in an undertone. But he wanted Leo to hear because… He was tired of playing games. He was tired of this. He was going to tell Leo everything.

 

Leo took the bait. “Why?” he asked, his eyes wary.

 

Ney lifted his eyes, met Leo’s squarely. “I would have stayed with you last night.”

 

 _That_ electrified Leo. He stared at Neymar, his lips parted in shock, utterly robbed of speech. For some reason, seeing Leo completely dumfounded was the funniest thing Ney had ever seen and he burst into laughter at Leo’s reaction, feeling the joy thrumming in his veins.

 

Leo was single! He’d kissed Neymar when he was single!

 

(Granted, he’d been drunk when it happened, but hey. It had _happened_.)

 

He finally stopped giggling, but couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Luckily, when he peeked up at Leo, he saw that Leo was smiling too, his eyes soft and… something else too. “No,” Leo said.

 

“No?” Neymar said, grinning mischievously, Leo’s expression making him feel bold and confident and flirtatious. He waggled his eyebrows. “I mean, _you’re_ the one who invited me to stay.”

 

Leo pointed a finger at Ney, but his eyes were dark and fiery in interest. “Stop that. We have to talk. Don’t distract me.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Ney said, sitting up, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged and turning fully to face Leo, his back facing the corner of the couch. “Yes, talk. I’m listening.” He felt like golden sunshine was spreading in his chest and in his veins, pure joy singing through every part of his body. He had to physically wipe the smile off his face and concentrate on what Leo was saying.

 

Of all the scenarios he’d envisioned, _this_ hadn’t been one of them.

 

(Okay, maybe he had, but not _seriously_.)

 

“I just… I wanted to say sorry for kissing you. No,” Leo said firmly. “Not for kissing you.” A thrill went down Ney’s spine. “For… for maybe doing something you weren’t comfortable with. I… I was really drunk. And maybe I didn’t listen to you or your body language and I’m sorry if I crossed any boundaries.” Neymar opened his mouth but Leo went on, “Wait, please. Let me finish.” Obediently, Ney clicked his teeth together. “I’m just… Just know that’s not me. I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

 

Neymar waited a beat after Leo finished talking just to make sure. “Leo, you didn’t do _anything_ I didn’t want,” he said earnestly, leaning forward. He felt his cheeks flush at the words. “I… I liked it,” he added shyly.

 

The smile that spread across Leo’s face was warm and slow and interested. “I liked it too,” he said, his voice low and husky.

 

Suddenly, the distance between them felt like too much and Ney wished he’d sat closer. He wanted to kiss Leo again. They had both liked it—what were they waiting for? This sounded like the perfect time for more kisses.

 

He stared at Leo’s lips, willing them to move closer to his own face. Oh, wait. They were moving. Blinking, Neymar focused.

 

“Ney, are you listening? Neymar?”

 

“Sorry,” Ney laughed, shaking his head. He glanced up and then grinned. “I was thinking of kissing you,” he said boldly, even as his face heated up at the words. He felt like himself again, the confident person he was, the kind of person that got everyone in the room to look at him, the kind who danced on tables and was charismatic and the center of attention.

 

To his immense comfort, Leo was red too. “No kissing,” he said, though, like the miserable bastard he was.

 

“What? _Why_?” Ney whined and then clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. “Oh my god. You don’t _like_ me. You just kissed me once when you were drunk. You don’t actually like me back. Oh my god, oh my god. Have I just made a giant fool of myself?” Groaning, he covered his face in his hands and curled into the couch.

 

Leo wrenched his hands apart, having moved closer to Neymar to do so, sitting only a foot or so away now. “You know, I’m thinking that we might never actually get to date because I’ll have to kill you before it ever happens,” Leo said conversationally, still holding Ney’s wrists.

 

“Date?” Neymar said in utter delight, flipping his hands over to link his fingers with Leo, heart skipping and fluttering in his chest. “You wanna date me?”

 

“ _That’s_ all you heard? I said I was going to kill you.”

 

Neymar squeezed Leo’s fingers. “ _Tell_ meeeee,” Ney whined.

 

Laughing, Leo’s rubbed his thumbs over the soft skin on Neymar’s hand. “Well, yes. If you’re good with it, I wanna take you on a date.”

 

Ney had never been someone who held back. And, in the mood he was in, he definitely wasn’t going to hold back. He flew at Leo, throwing his arms around Leo’s neck but Leo managed to stay upright, though he definitely almost fell back. He was laughing, though, as his hands came up to Ney’s back, supporting him as he climbed onto Leo’s lap.

 

“So you _like_ me!” Ney sang happily, leaning back, his fingers loosely clasped around Leo’s neck, his legs around Leo’s waist.

 

Leo could have joked, but his eyes were very serious. “A lot,” he said quietly.

 

Neymar felt his heart skip a beat and he shook his head, smiling widely. “You’re really good at that.” Leo chuckled. “When did you know? How long have you liked me?”

 

Leo shook his head, his face noticeably reddening. “I honestly don’t know when. But I know I realised I had feelings for you that night. The night we… spoke on the phone.”

 

Neymar flushed wildly and desperately hoped he wouldn’t get hard. They were sitting far too close for Leo not to notice if it did happen. “ _Really_?”

 

Leo nodded, his cheeks stained red. “I just couldn’t stop thinking of you after that. Of that conversation. And that’s when I knew. But it’s been building for a long time. I think, pretty much from almost the beginning.”

 

For some reason, it brought emotion to the surface and Ney’s throat constricted. “And after the call’s when I ignored you and avoided you. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his eyes glistening with tears.

 

“Hey, hey,” Leo said softly, squeezing Ney’s back gently. “We’ve already gone through those conversations. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

 

Neymar nodded, willing the tears and the emotion to go away. He wanted to apologise more but there was too much to discuss—and it was too exciting a moment. “Do you know when I liked you?”

 

Leo shook his head, already smiling. “When?”

 

“I think when you were nice to my sister. You remember?”

 

Leo grinned. “ _That’s_ what worked? I’m going to try it out on more people.”

 

Neymar smacked Leo and he laughed. “But,” Leo mused. “You told me you didn’t like me when I asked you?”

 

“Oh, I know!” Ney said hurriedly. “I wasn’t lying then, I swear! I just didn’t know cause I’m dumb. I only realised I liked you the day you came back from Argentina.”

 

“What, really?” Leo asked, sounding mildly surprised. “Why that day?”

 

Neymar was bold, but admitting he’d dreamed about making out with Leo was just a smidge embarrassing. “Um,” he said, hedging. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you one day, just not today.” He braced himself for Leo forcing him to confess, but Leo simply squeezed him affectionately and nodded.

 

“Alright. I’ll hold you to that.”

 

“I can’t believe you likeeee meeee,” Neymar sang, almost bouncing in Leo’s lap. He made to get up but Leo held fast. “Let me _goooo_ , I want to danceeee.”

 

Leo laughed, his eyes warm. He looked charmed and appreciative and like Ney was beautiful and Neymar thought suddenly that nobody had looked at him like that in… _years_. Unable to help the tide of emotion rising in his chest—gratitude and joy and something else he didn’t want to think about right now—he leaned down to kiss Leo, but Leo turned his head, letting Ney’s lips drift onto his cheeks.

 

“Okay, that wasn’t fun,” Ney complained.

 

Leo laughed. “I told you. No kissing until our first date. I’m going to give you time to back out.”

 

“I’m not going to back out!” Ney insisted. “Just let me kiss you.”

 

“Absolutely not. I’m hungover. And you’re just dumb. So we have to wait.”

 

“Well,” Neymar complained, pouting, plucking at the hairs on Leo’s nape. “I’m not gonna outgrow dumb. So you should probably just kiss me.”

 

Leo laughed hard at that. “You’re the best, you know that?”

 

“Then, _why_ won’t you kiss me?”

 

“I just think…” Leo’s eyes were very serious. “I just think you deserve romance. Real romance. I think you deserve someone who’s going to wine and dine you. And _then_ sixty-nine you,” he said, grinning wickedly. He sobered up immediately. “I think you deserved to be savoured a little. And, trust me,” he said, his eyes heating up, his gaze dropping to Ney’s lips. “It’s not because I don’t want to.”

 

The air around them had heated and Ney felt it in his bones, the sudden sexual tension. But Leo’s words meant more to him right now. “Why?” he asked very quietly, holding himself very still, afraid that emotion would tear him up.

 

Leo hesitated. “I don’t want to bring up bad memories. But I just think you should just be shown that… Felipe was fucking wrong.” His voice was strong and, Neymar realised with wonder, Leo was _still_ angry about it. “And I think you should know you’re… you’re better than whatever he made you feel.”

 

Ney was silent and then asked incredulously, “Are you seriously not going to let me kiss you after you said all that? The most romantic thing that has ever been said ever?”

 

Leo’s laugh was gentle. “It’s just starting. Just wait.”

 

And, as Neymar sat on his lap, his arms still loosely around Leo’s neck, he realised that he was happier today than he’d been in years.

 

He couldn’t _wait_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be posted on may 14th at 6 pm est (6 pm ish is probably more accurate haha)


	17. First (or Second) Dates and Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full warning that i didn't proof this chapter because i'm lazy and tired so... i'm sorry in advance
> 
> also there's a joke about pedophiles in here... which sounds horrible i know, but hopefully isn't as terrible as i'm making it sound. and there are references to sexual assault (no descriptions/depictions or anything like that) so if that bothers you, please please be warned

Leo offered to drive Neymar home but the latter was firm. He could see how tired and exhausted Leo still was from his hangover—and, honestly, _today_ , Ney knew he wouldn’t mind the bus ride home all by himself. And, truly, he barely noticed the minutes slipping by as he sat near the window, listening to music and smiling uncontrollably.

 

 _Leo liked him_!

 

He wondered if he’d ever stop being happy about it, ever stop floating. The joy thrummed through him—like he’d been dipped in sunshine and laid to dry on a bed of clouds.

 

He couldn’t stop smiling. How had this happened? How had Leo, the nicest person in the world, fallen for him? How had Neymar, easily the stupidest person in the universe, gotten so lucky?

 

He pressed his hands to his cheeks, hurting from the constant smiling and saw a little toddler staring at him, probably confused at his incessant joy. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying to sober up, but when his phone vibrated and he glanced down to read it, the smile came back, unbeckoned and huge.

 

_Let me know when you get home_

 

Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic message Leo had ever sent or a romantic message in and of itself, but the truth was Neymar finally understood what real romance was. He’d had the movie romance—he’d had the handsome dude chasing him, the most gorgeous guy choosing to be with _Neymar_ over everyone else and it had all been… well, bullshit, really. (Not that Leo wasn’t handsome or gorgeous, of course. But he was no _Felipe_. And Neymar had no problem admitting it or feeling guilty for thinking that Felipe was handsomer than Leo because, guess what? Ney was _way_ more attracted to Leo.)

 

No, Neymar had finally learned his lesson. Real romance was _this_ : this infinite care, this genuine… protectiveness, concern.

 

And _love_.

 

And, of course, Ney wasn’t deluded—or arrogant—enough to presume that Leo was _in_ love with him, but he knew Leo loved him. And he loved Leo too.

 

He hadn’t yet asked himself if he was _in_ love with Leo—mostly because he was frightened the answer would be _yes_ —but he liked Leo, he was attracted to him, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that Leo had become one of his best friends.

 

And, right now, that was enough.

 

* * *

 

Leo yawned widely and Ney burst into laughter, mid-story. “Sorry, sorry,” Leo hastened to admit, although Neymar could hear the laughter in his words. “I swear, I’m not bored, I swear. I’m listening. Keep going.”

 

Neymar grinned and rolled onto his stomach, closing his eyes. “You need sleep,” he said into the phone, still smiling. “You’re clearly bored and tired and sick of me. And it hasn’t even been a day.” He sighed dramatically. “Alas.”

 

“I can’t believe you said ‘alas’. I feel like I’m dating an eighty-year-old.”

 

“Are you calling me a pedophile?” Ney demanded.

 

“Are you calling me a—” Leo stopped mid-sentence as if he sensed danger.

 

Ney half sat up, thrilled. “No, no,” he crowed in absolute glee. “Go _on_ ,” he sang.

 

“No,” Leo said firmly. “No, thank you. I forgot what I was going to say.”

 

Neymar’s laughter pulsed through his words. “Oh, really? Let’s walk back through the conversation. So you called me a pedophile. And _you’re_ dating me. Which makes _you_ …” he trailed off.

 

Leo was silent. Neymar waited, struggling not to laugh. Finally, Leo grunted, “I’m not saying it.”

 

“Now, now, my sweet angel,” Ney said jovially. “You aren’t denying me on our first day together, are you? I thought you were going to make me happy and show me _real_ romance.”

 

“Is your idea of romance forcing me to admit… _things_?” Leo grumbled, stifling another huge yawn.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re using my own words against me. Here I thought I was being romantic and here you are, throwing them back in my face.”

 

“Don’t distract me, sweet thang. Now, so back to the problem at hand. I’m a pedophile and you are…?”

 

Leo was silent again and Ney thought he wouldn’t admit it, but finally, he burst out, “Fine! I’m a child. Are you happy?”

 

Neymar burst into giggles, rolling on the bed, absolutely thrilled. “I wish I had recorded that! Also, yes, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

 

“Idiot,” Leo said, but Ney could hear the warmth through the phone. “You think you’ve won, but I’m going to punish you. I’m going to bed.”

 

“Noooooo,” Neymar whined. “You can’t,” he said, drawing the syllables out.

 

“No, that’s what you deserve, you sicko.”

 

Neymar laughed. “Alright, but only because you have a hangover. Otherwise, I’d be forcing you to have all-nighters with me.”

 

There was a pause and Leo’s voice came through the phone, suddenly lower and huskier. “Is that a promise?”

 

For a second, Neymar’s breath hitched and then he snapped out of it. “No. You don’t get to do that after not letting me kiss you.”

 

“You know,” Leo drawled, sounding as if he was enjoying himself. “Now that I think about it, there are other ways to punish you. Tell me, Neyma _r_ ,” rolling the ‘r’ like he’d done right before their first kiss, “Just for future reference: do you like being punished?”

 

Ney _knew_ what Leo was doing. He _knew_ that and, yet, he found himself getting aroused. He’d never been someone who liked pain, but, suddenly, the thought of being _punished_ by Leo was… hot.

 

Really _insanely_ fucking hot.

 

“It’s not working,” Neymar said slightly unsteadily. “I’m not going to lose. Also, what happened to going to sleep?”

 

Leo’s voice was silky. “Before, you wanted to pull an all-nighter with me and now you want me to sleep? Is someone _scared_?”

 

“You know, you really aren’t as innocent as you look.”

 

Leo’s laugh was low and genuine. It made Neymar smile despite their conversation, as arousing as it had been. “No, I’m not. And I can’t wait for you to find that out. _All_ of it.”

 

“ _Enough_ ,” Neymar said firmly. “Don’t start something you aren’t going to finish.”

 

Leo hummed. “Who said I won’t?” he said, his voice deliberately pitched quite low.

 

“Lionel,” Neymar said in a warning tone, even though his heart was beating fast. “Stop.” Part of him wished Leo wouldn’t stop, wished he’d go on, the memory of the last time they talked this way on the phone burning in his mind.

 

“Okay,” Leo said cheerfully. “But only since you asked so nicely. I’m going to sleep, but you better dream of me.”

 

“I’d rather dream of the devil himself.”

 

“It’s the same, isn’t it? Good night, weirdo.”

 

And, before Ney could answer, Leo hung up. Neymar grinned, rolling onto his side, his heart still fluttering. He was still genuinely, incredibly happy, and utterly grateful to the universe for finally bringing them together.

 

* * *

 

For the record, he _did_ dream of Leo that night.

 

It _may_ have been R-rated, but nobody needed to know that.

 

Least of all Leo.

 

* * *

 

_Have you seen the new Avengers movie?_

Neymar picked up his phone and quickly texted a _no_ back to Leo. They were trying to decide on what their first date plans were going to be, both of them bouncing ideas back and forth. Ney had suggested going to a restaurant, but Leo hadn’t been so enthused, which surprised Ney. He’d never known Leo to turn food down before and, besides, food was a mutual love they shared.

 

_Would you be into going to see the movie? Do you like those movies?_

 

Neymar’s reply was quick. _I love those movies. I’ve missed a couple of them, but I think I should be able to follow it._

Leo’s reply came back about ten minutes later, which made Ney wonder.

_Perfect. So how about we go for the 5:15 show tomorrow?_

_And dw I’ll explain whatever you don’t get_

Neymar felt a fluttering around his ribs. He’d forever associate these movies with Leo now. He texted back immediately, his fingers flying over the phone. _Sounds good. Dinner afterward? You know I need food._

 

This time, Leo reply’s was almost instantaneous, like he was waiting for Neymar’s answer. _Ofc. I gotta go, I have practice. Talk when I get back?_

 

Neymar’s smile was soft even as he already began to miss Leo. _Yes_ , he texted back. _Come back fast._

Leo didn’t reply, but that was Leo. He wasn’t about that messaging life, but he never had been. Ney had wondered why he’d texted to start with, but he must have been surrounded by people and not wanted to discuss this when they could hear it.

 

That made Neymar frown. It had only occurred to him this morning that they had to tell their friends, especially Dani and Geri. Of course they were going to crow about being right about the two of them, but he wondered about Dani.

 

Dani had already suffered once when Ney had dated one of his friends. Felipe had effectively caused enough drama between them to last a lifetime, and Neymar had no interest in restarting shit. He didn’t want to lose Dani anymore and he _knew_ Dani wanted this—hadn’t he been pushing Ney towards Leo all this time? But he also knew that if they did break up, Dani would be hurt. He was too close to the both of them, too involved.

 

Sighing, Neymar looked down at his phone, rereading his conversation with Leo. It made him feel slightly better. He knew he’d have to summon the courage sometime soon, but he’d do it with Leo—they could tell Dani together.

 

That way, he grinned to himself, Leo could do all the heavy lifting.

 

Feeling better, he unpaused the show he was watching and relaxed into the couch, his mind drifting to tomorrow’s date.

 

* * *

 

“So tell me, what’s Lionel Messi like on a date?” Ney asked, sighing as he settled into the bed, holding up the phone. He glanced at the tiny box containing the video of his face, making sure he didn’t look like a loon before looking back at Leo’s face.

 

They were Facetiming and Leo had initiated it. Of _course_ he had. He’d initially asked if he should come over, but Ney knew he was probably exhausted after practice and Leo liked to sleep early anyway. So he’d said no and suggested they call instead.

 

Leo was terrible at Facetiming. Or maybe he was the best, Ney thought. He simply didn’t care how he looked and placed himself in all sorts of strange angles and places, the phone held at the weirdest positions. Ney, on the other hand, held the phone high and full-on, so that he looked at his best.

 

But none of that mattered because when the call had finally connected and their videos appeared, Leo’s face had split into a smile—as if just _seeing_ Ney made him happy.

 

And that was probably the cutest fucking thing Neymar had ever seen in his goddamn life.

 

“You’ll see,” Leo said, en route to the kitchen to get some water. He filled his glass while Ney watched. “Don’t be so curious.”

 

“I’m curious for you.”

 

Leo had to stop drinking his water for that, grinning up over the glass at the phone. “My _god_ , that was terrible,” he said, laughing, making his way back to the bedroom.

 

“Shut up,” Ney said, laughing too. He watched fondly as Leo plopped into bed facedown, holding the phone sideways. “Are you tired?”

 

“Yeah,” Leo said, blowing out a breath. He peered at the camera with one eye open. “Coach made us do drills because we conceded two goals last match. He was mad.”

“Don’t tell me you had to do them too, the star athlete of the whole entire college,” Ney said, gently teasing.

 

Leo’s smile was wicked. “You shouldn’t be this jokey about drilling.”

 

“How do you make even _that_ sexual?” Neymar spluttered, cheeks reddening.

 

Leo’s laugh was warm. He rolled onto his back, propping himself up on pillows. “I’m in bed, you’re in my bed. It’s hard not to think about it.”

 

“I’m not in your bed. I’m in a phone.”

 

“Doesn’t stop me thinking,” Leo said, waggling his eyebrows.

 

Ney laughed. “Where did _this_ Leo come from? You were so prim and proper all these days.”

 

Leo’s smile was mischievous. But he was still tired and it was approaching his bedtime so, around a huge yawn, he said, “That Leo was your _friend_. _This_ Leo has a different relationship with you.”

 

“Kinda ruined the moment by yawning, bro.”

 

“You know, I sensed it?”

 

Neymar grinned. “Go sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Okay,” Leo nodded, stifling another yawn. “I’ll pick you up around 4:30? I thought we could go see the previews and it’s a fifteen minute drive too.”

 

Neymar nodded, his heart fluttering at the thought. “Sounds good.”

 

“Good night, weirdo.” And, with a wink, Leo hung up.

 

Neymar spread his hands and legs wide, smiling at the ceiling. He must have it really fucking bad because being called ‘weirdo’ had never sounded so good before.

 

* * *

 

Neymar promised himself he wouldn’t fret about the date, but he spent all fucking day thinking about it. He dreamt about it during class, in the library, and at the library café—until, finally, he gave up all pretense, lied to Marcelo about having a headache, and went directly back home to get ready for the date.

 

At 2:00.

 

Two-and-a-half hours before Leo would come to get him. He fretted over his outfit for ages, but figured he didn’t need to be dressy for a _movie_ , right? Besides, Leo was one of the least judgmental people ever. If Neymar wasn’t dressed right, Leo certainly wasn’t going to make him feel bad about it.

 

So, feeling suddenly immensely relieved, he picked out his best—and tightest—jeans and a white T-shirt. For some reason, the white colour only emphasized his eyes and made his skin look even more golden than usual.

 

And Ney wasn’t above trying to look hot for Leo.

 

Singing off-pitch, he went into the bathroom to have his shower.

 

At 2:28.

 

* * *

 

By the time it was 3:38, Neymar was fully dressed and ready. He’d sprayed himself lightly with cologne, styled his hair carefully, and then paced around his apartment in half-excitement, half-pure nervousness. He didn’t even _know_ why he was nervous, he just _was_.

 

Maybe because, subconsciously, he’d wanted this for ages. Maybe because this was _real_ and he liked Leo so… much. He didn’t really want to examine how much he actually did like Leo. But that had to be why it mattered so much.

 

By 4:30, he was practically in a froth. His heart was thrumming, his palms were sweaty (knees weak, arms heavy), and his stomach fluttering. When he heard the door knock, though, all his nervousness flew out of the window suddenly and he flew to the door in happiness.

 

He opened the door and just made sure it was Leo before he knocked into Leo with his full body. Leo seemed to be used to this nonsense—maybe Neymar had flown at him too often—and he barely even blinked as he hugged Ney back. They hugged for a long moment at the threshold before Leo gently murmured, “You’re crushing the flowers.”

 

Ney leaped off him, delighted. “You got me _flowers_?”

 

Sure enough, Leo was holding a bouquet of daffodils, a mix of yellow and white. Leo’s cheeks had a spot of red, faint, but unmistakable, and Neymar felt his heart overflow with emotion. “Thank you,” he said, unbelievably touched, reaching for the bouquet. He fingered the petals and then looked up, blinking back tears. “What made you choose daffodils? Are they your favourite flowers?”

 

Leo hesitated long enough that Neymar knew it would be good. He grabbed Leo’s hand and pulled him inside. “Come in first. Let me put this in… something. I don’t have a vase, but we’ll figure it out.”

 

Leo followed him into the kitchen, watching as Neymar searched his cabinets. Ney glanced over his shoulder. “Come on. Spill.”

 

“Well,” Leo said, his voice halting. “I asked the lady who worked at the flower shop what flowers would be good for a first date. And she said daffodils signified new beginnings and when I saw it, I don’t know—it reminded me of you. Sunny and bright. Full of life.”

 

Neymar had long found an empty bottle of vodka and was holding it in his hands as he leaned against the counter. The emotions were rising again. “Thank you,” he said slowly. “I… Thank you.” He hoped his expression was speaking enough for him, and maybe it was—because Leo moved over, smiling, and gently kissed Neymar right next to his left eye, on the soft skin of his temple. “You’re welcome. Give me this—” he gestured toward the bottle. “I’ll put it in.”

 

Ney handed it over silently, still a little too emotional, watching Leo fill the bottle up and then snip the ends of the flowers, dropping them into the bottle. They were almost weirdly incongruous, poking out of the vodka bottle, but they _fit_ in some strange way.

 

Leo looked over, seeing Neymar still quietly leaning against the counter. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Neymar said, smiling at him. “I’m very okay.” He could finally appreciate what Leo was wearing: a thin, long-sleeved, almost translucent white shirt with black pants. He looked comfortable and handsome and Ney wanted to kiss him _so_ bad.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

Neymar nodded and, as he slipped his fingers into Leo’s outstretched hand, he felt that feeling again.

 

 _Safe_.

 

* * *

 

As Leo buckled in, Neymar was suddenly reminded of the last time he had been in Leo’s car: when he’d taken Ney to a game and then dinner. “Hey, you remember when we went to the Argentina-Brazil match?”

 

“Mm,” Leo said, fiddling with the GPS.

 

“Wasn’t that an actual date?” Ney asked casually, looking at his fingernails, knowing exactly what he was doing.

 

Leo looked up, fingers stilling. “No,” he said firmly. He held up a finger at Ney. “Stop that.”

 

Ney’s grin was infectious. He raised his eyebrows. “I mean, you _did_ tell me it was a date, remember? You said that when you invited me to come to the game. So that means, this is actually our _second_ date—which _means_ , you can—”

 

But Leo was a few steps ahead. He grabbed the front of Neymar’s shirt and pulled him close, kissing him hard. Ney gasped—and Leo immediately dove in, his tongue meeting Ney’s, his kiss gentling. What had started as Leo calling Ney’s bluff turned into a real kiss, soft and warm, going on and on and on. When Leo gently nipped Ney’s lower lip, Neymar pushed on his chest, warm under Ney’s fingers.

 

Leo lifted his head, his eyes dark and fiery. “You were saying?” he murmured, his mouth still only an inch away from Ney’s.

 

Neymar felt dazed. “I don’t remember.”

 

Leo moved in again, kissing Ney—and, this time, Ney could feel Leo’s lips smiling against his, warm and gentle. Between kisses, he murmured, “I think you were saying that since this is our second date…?”

 

Neymar cleared his throat, trying to regain his senses and his wits. “Fine,” he said, too aroused to think. “I was going to say that I could kiss you since this is our second date. Fine. You called my bluff.” He was babbling.

 

Leo’s mouth met his again, still smiling, and they kissed for a long time, hot and soft and tongue and lips—though strangely enough, Leo was slowing the tempo more and more. It seemed the more aroused Neymar became, the slower and heavier Leo kissed, as if he knew exactly how to rile Ney, how to set him on afire.

 

When he lifted his head again, Neymar was utterly lost. He would have grumbled, but he could see, from the colour in Leo’s face, from the way he blinked, from the way he had to lick his lips and focus on the GPS, that Leo had gotten affected too.

 

Bemused, Ney looked around, suddenly remembering that they were still in the parking lot and anyone could have seen that make out session. “You know,” he started, still desperately aroused, but Leo was not having it.

 

“I know what you’re going to say,” Leo said firmly, interrupting, keying the address into the GPS. “But no.”

 

“There’s no way you know what I’m going to say, or you wouldn’t say no,” Neymar protested.

 

Leo’s head snapped up and his eyes were on _fire_. There were no other words possible for _that_ expression. His jaw was tight and his words were measured when he spoke, his gaze on Ney’s lips. “I _know_. And _that’s_ going to happen.” He looked back up at Ney’s eyes. “But not right now. First, we’re going on a date.”

 

“And then?” Ney asked almost breathlessly.

 

“You know,” Leo promised.

 

And Neymar did.

 

* * *

 

Leo had booked seats that were a few rows away from the topmost row and smack dab in the middle. Neymar led them to their seats, his crotch finally fully calmed down—it had been a tense ride—and now thoroughly excited to see the movie. He’d been looking forward to seeing it for ages so this was a happy accident.

 

They sat down with their giant buckets of popcorn and candy. Ney had bought these, fully prepared to argue that it wasn’t fair that Leo bought _everything_ , but, surprisingly, Leo hadn’t said a word, simply accepted it and said a sincere thank you. It made Ney feel good—of _course_ he wasn’t as rich as Leo, and, of _course_ , Leo could afford to buy all of it if he wanted to, but Ney had always been independent and proud about money and Leo seemed to get that.

 

It made Ney like Leo that much more.

 

They were a few minutes into the movie when Leo’s fingers gently brushed against his, dry and cool. Ney felt his heart skip, but he turned his palm over, their hands sliding against each other, their fingers slipping together slowly.

 

Neymar struggled not to smile, focusing on the movie, but Leo leaned in, gently murmuring into Ney’s ear, “You look really good today. Did I tell you that yet?”

 

Ney turned to look at Leo, their faces close. He grinned. “You haven’t, but I always assume I look good so it works out,” he whispered back.

 

Leo smiled, leaning back and lifting their joined hands to his mouth. He kissed the back of Ney’s hand lightly, almost absent-mindedly, and they turned back to the movie.

 

It was a good movie and Neymar was sucked into the drama of it, despite Leo next to him. They whispered jokes to each other throughout and, one time, Leo’s comment was so sly and clever that he had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from barking out a laugh.

 

They stayed right until the end of the credits to see the post-credits scene, when, slightly shy, Ney let go of Leo’s hand, and they walked out together, discussing their theories of what had happened. Ney felt calmer now—it felt so _comfortable_ being with Leo, like being with someone who you could say anything to, but at the same time, someone you wanted to bang into the following week.

 

“So,” Ney said, waggling his eyebrows when they got into the car. “Where to now?”

 

Leo raised an eyebrow. “That,” he said faux-mysteriously, “Is a surprise.”

 

“What, really?” Ney asked excitedly. “Don’t fuck with me. You know I love surprises.”

 

Leo grinned. “Really.” He reversed and then began to drive, turning the music down so he could hear Neymar speak.

 

“Can I guess?” Ney asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

 

Leo laughed. “Yes, but I won’t promise to tell you if you’re right or not.”

 

“Well, that’s no fair,” Neymar said absent-mindedly, peering at the signs they were passing. This was vaguely familiar… wait, could it be? “You’re taking me to the stadium!” he cried when he was absolutely sure.

 

“Well,” Leo said, eyes twinkling. “I figure it’s tradition at this point.”

 

Unable to help himself, Neymar unbuckled his seat belt and slipped closer, pressing a kiss to Leo’s cheek as Leo’s car began to beep, sounding the alarm that the seat belt wasn’t being worn. He made to move back, but Leo caught him, an arm around Ney’s waist, murmuring, “Wait.” Ney held still, slightly, confused, as Leo gently braked, coming to a stop at a red light. He turned to Neymar, refocusing. “I couldn’t concentrate on that. One more,” he said, smiling.

 

Laughing, Neymar curled his hands around Leo’s neck, pressing his lips against Leo’s. It was sweet, gentle—it felt more companionable than sexual, their mouths staying closed. They didn’t kiss for very long either before Ney dropped his head against Leo’s shoulder, sighing against Leo’s neck, feeling very content.

 

The light turned back to green and he disengaged from Leo after pressing a brief kiss to Leo’s neck, turning ruefully to wear his seatbelt again.

 

They arrived not long after that, pulling into the empty parking lot. Ney got out of the car and waited for Leo who, for some reason, had opened the trunk of his car. Blinking, Ney followed him and saw that baskets of food, a cooler, blankets and pillows.

 

“It’s a _picnic_?” Ney cried, turning to Leo, clutching his arm. “I _love_ picnics! I haven’t been on one since… forever!” He leaned heavily against Leo, absolutely delighted.

 

Leo grinned, removing his arm from Ney’s clasp and instead sliding it up Ney’s back. “You really like it?” he asked almost shyly.

 

Ney’s heart clenched. “I really do, I swear.” He wanted to kiss Leo, but they were totally in public right now and he didn’t know what Leo was like with PDA or anything like that. He didn’t want to force Leo into things right now.

 

Leo kissed him again in the same place, right at the edge of his temple and eyelid, where the skin was soft and translucent. “You take the blankets and the pillows.”

 

Neymar nodded, stepping back, smiling big. He lugged the blankets under his arm and the pillows in his hand, watching as Leo effortlessly carried the cooler in one hand and two baskets of food in his other hand.

 

“Come on,” Leo said. They moved together through the familiar path, entering through the boys’ locker room to the field, Ney chattering aimlessly about everything and nothing. There, Leo took him to one corner of the field where the lights shone above, and Ney dropped to his knees. He spread the blanket and fluffed the pillows at one end of the blanket.

 

“What food did you briiiiing meeee?” Ney sang, completely in his element.

 

Leo grinned, sinking to his knees next to Neymar. “Why don’t you check and see?” He pushed the two baskets towards Ney.

 

Eagerly, Neymar opened them. “Sandwiches! Cake! Cookies! Cheese! Fried chicken! Crackers! Fruit!” Excited, he grabbed a grape and popped it into his mouth, the burst of sweet-tart flavour exploding in his mouth. “You know, I _love_ green grapes, and hate red ones. How did you even know?”

 

Leo’s laugh was soft. “You told me ages ago. We used to talk about food a lot, remember?”

 

Neymar remembered, but he was touched that Leo had kept that tiny factoid in his brain all these months. Unable to express his gratitude, he instead passed a grape to Leo. Leo’s grin seemed to say he understood because he simply ate it and let Ney calm down.

 

They finally got comfortable, half leaning on the pillows, looking up at the darkening sky, talking. Well, Neymar was talking and Leo was mostly listening. Leo had brought beer in the coolers and even though there was enough for them to both have their own cans, they instead shared one, passing it between them.

 

They went through four cans that way, eating the food slowly. Neymar had been hungry before they’d gotten here, but somehow the excitement had taken his hunger away. He nibbled anyway, but he found he wanted to sit here and talk to Leo more than he wanted to eat. Leo was almost lying down, one knee propped up. Ney was still sitting, too excited to lie down, his knees pressed against Leo’s thigh, as close to Leo as he could be.

 

They talked about a myriad of things, the conversation drifting from movies to books to TV shows to food to gossip about their mutual friends, Leo’s hand sliding up and down Neymar’s spine. After about the sixth can, most of which had gone inside of Neymar instead of Leo, he finally quietened enough to lie down against the pillows, their elbows touching.

 

“Leo,” he asked, a little drowsily, “Why didn’t you go pro?”

 

He felt Leo tensing a little, just a bit. But then he blew out a breath and started talking. And, as the night fell, as they looked up at the stars, Ney felt himself become almost spellbound by the story. “When I was little, I was really really little. I was the tiniest in my class, the tiniest in my football team. My brothers had both been regular-sized, but I was small. After a while, when it became obvious that something was wrong, my doctor ordered tests. They found out I had something called growth hormone deficiency.

 

“For some reason, my body wasn’t making that hormone. And, without that hormone, I couldn’t grow. So they started giving me shots and—”

 

“Wait,” Ney interrupted. “They had to give you shots? Couldn’t you take a pill or something?”

 

Leo shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know if they’ve figured out new treatments by now, but back then, you had to take a shot. And I had to take it daily and so I had to learn to inject myself.” His voice paused as if he was remembering those days. “And I mainly did it on my legs.”

 

Neymar suddenly pictured this tiny boy injecting himself in the legs every day and a wave of protectiveness washed over him. He moved a little closer to Leo, slipping his fingers into Leo’s, almost as if he was giving him strength.

 

Leo briefly squeezed Neymar’s fingers before going on. “So anyway, they were so expensive and my parents couldn’t afford them. So my local Argentine club—they paid for them in the beginning. But then it got too expensive even for them and they said they couldn’t continue paying for it.”

 

Leo took a deep breath. “When Barca came scouting, offering to pay the treatment, it felt like a miracle. We all moved to Barcelona. Everything was paid for. My dad was given a job. We couldn’t believe it.

 

“But then my brothers hated it. And I did too. I missed home. And my little sister—she hated it too. But we were all playing in the academy and it seemed okay. At first.

 

“But then, I heard the rumours. They said the doctor in charge of the girls’ team was touching them. You know what I mean? I heard some of my teammates joking about it one day and they didn’t know I had a sister who was playing for the girls’ team. I came home and I asked Maria Sol—my sister—straight away. And she started crying.”

 

Neymar pressed a hand against his mouth, horrified, thinking of Rafaella. Oh _God_. “Oh, Leo, was she…?”

 

Leo shook his head. “Nothing had happened. Yet. But the doctor was saying things to her. And he’d already touched one of her friends. And it just seemed like a matter of time. I couldn’t believe it. It was like I’d _done_ this to her, like I had almost put her in danger…” He swallowed hard, looking agonized. “Right away, I put in a complaint about him and I requested for a transfer to America. They begged me to stay, but they didn't fire him... so I couldn't. I just wanted to get her away from there. We couldn’t go back to Argentina and we’d heard that America was a good place.” Leo laughed, a little dryly. “I mean, at the end of the day, every place probably has their shit place, but America was easier. But she was never really the same and she lost interest in football. Eventually, my whole family moved back to Argentina and I stayed here with my dad until I went to college.”

 

He smiled at Neymar. “Ever since then, Barca keep asking about me every now and then. But I don’t know. Every time they come to ask, I just think of my sister and the fact that they never fired that doctor and it’s like—I don’t want it. I can’t explain it. You probably think it’s a stupid decision, but I just don’t want it.”

 

“No,” Ney said earnestly, his hand squeezing Leo’s. “No, it’s not. I get it. I have a sister. Some things… some things stick.” He swallowed, thinking of his own hang-ups with Felipe. “Some wounds stay. And not many people get it. But I do. If you don’t want it, you don’t want it.”

 

They looked at each other in silent understanding, some undercurrent running between them. They understood each other—and it seemed they always had. It was maybe a strange moment for a kiss, but Leo leaned in. His mouth landed on Ney’s softly, almost like a butterfly, a barely-there kiss. It was Neymar who deepened it, Ney who pressed against Leo, turning to his side and leaning against Leo.

 

They kissed and kissed and kissed, the minutes stretching, the heat between them a contrast with the cool night air around them, the kiss saying things they perhaps couldn’t. Leo was a fantastic kisser, Neymar thought dimly, their tongues touching lightly, their mouths tasting of beer and cake, the bittersweet taste a powerful aphrodisiac in its own way.

 

When Leo spread his legs a little, Neymar slid his own leg between them, sliding so that his body was slightly on top of Leo’s. He could feel Leo’s erection on his thigh now, and he knew Leo could feel his. It sharpened the desperation between them, the hunger carrying an edge now as their mouths pressed deeper, as the kiss grew hotter and harder and a little sloppier.

 

Finally, Neymar broke the kiss, panting. “Listen, I’m going to need you to take me home, or I’ll die,” he said, his voice hoarse.

 

But Leo simply rolled Neymar over, so that now it was Leo on top and he bent down to kiss Ney again. Moaning a little, Ney spread his own thighs now so Leo could settle between them, so Leo could grind their crotches together, just a little, just to feel that delicious friction. Ney’s fingers slid into Leo’s hair as he ran his tongue over Leo’s lower lip.

 

Leo lifted his head, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Do you know,” he said roughly, “how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

 

“You should have,” Ney replied, almost gasping as Leo shifted a little above him, rubbing against Ney’s cock.

 

Leo bent his head, his lips going to Neymar’s neck, kissing and licking. Ney closed his eyes, his head falling back to allow Leo more room. How did neck kissing feel so _good_? He let out a little sound, almost a half-moan.

 

“God, that noise you make,” Leo said huskily, his breath ghosting over Neymar’s exposed, warm and making me shiver. “One night, I’m going to make you make that noise all night.” He kept kissing, sucking a hickey into Ney’s neck, painful and good at the same time. “Over and over and over.”

 

A wave of heat passed over Neymar’s whole body at the thought and his cheeks turned bright red. His cock was throbbing uncomfortably. He was so _so_ aroused. “So do it tonight,” he said desperately. “Please.”

 

But Leo came up, slipping both of his hands into Ney’s and holding them over his hand and then kissing him again. Their mouths came together hotly, teeth scraping a little, rough and hot and so _good_.

 

They finally stopped kissing when Leo’s phone vibrated so loudly and for so long that he finally had to raise his head. He checked who it was, murmuring an apology. “It’s Dani,” he said softly, kissing Neymar briefly. “I’ll call him later.”

 

Ney wanted to pull him back, but the spell had been broken and Leo sat up, his head mussed up, his cheeks flushed, his shirt slightly askew. Smiling, his heart clenching in affection, Ney sat up too, even though he was still as hard as he’d been a few minutes ago. He ran his hands through Leo’s hair, fixing it, smoothing it down.

 

When he was done, they kissed, just briefly, just a peck, really. Then, by mutual understanding, they turned back to start packing up. They walked back to the car almost in silence, Ney’s mind on Leo’s kisses, trying but failing to calm himself down.

 

They dumped the things in the trunk, pausing to kiss again, almost as if they couldn’t stop, as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. They kissed again inside the car just before Leo started the engine, long and slowly, Ney’s head spinning as Leo leaned fully across towards him, pressing him back into his seat.

 

Leo played music on the way home as they held hands, both fully aroused and trying not to talk about it. But Neymar had always been resilient—and it turned out his cock was too. He was back to his chatting best after about eight minutes and entertained the both of them on the way back, even though he didn’t ever fully lose his erection.

 

When they got to Ney’s place, Leo parked and turned off the engine, plunging them to a silence. “Come up,” Ney said softly, the heat and tension back again as if it had never gone away.

 

Leo’s face was half in shadow so it was difficult to make out his expression. “You really want me to?” he said after a long pause.

 

Neymar hesitated, finally saying the thing he’d been afraid to say until now. “I do, but…”

 

“But…?”

 

“I don’t know… I don’t know if maybe nothing will happen. Maybe we’ll just sleep. Maybe we’ll fuck. I don’t know. I… I can’t give you any guarantees right now. After Felipe—” he trailed off, hesitating.

 

Leo’s hand squeezed his. “I know. We don’t have to anything, I promise. I’m not expecting anything.”

 

Ney swallowed. He looked straight ahead now, coming to the crux of it. “What if… what if I never want to?”

 

“Then you never want to. That’s okay. Masturbation exists, you know,” Leo said, smiling as Ney turned his head to look at Leo. “I can always take care of myself.”

 

“But won’t you get… tired of me?”

 

Leo shook his head, kissing the back of Ney’s hand again. “No, Ney. I don’t like you _just_ because I want to fuck you. I like you for so many things. That’s the smallest part of it.”

 

Ney smiled, the relief pouring over him like water. “Here I thought it was because of my fine ass.”

 

“You have an ass?”

 

Neymar smacked him, even though Leo was laughing. “Asshole.”

 

Grinning, Leo leaned over and kissed him briefly. “Go get your stuff. We’ll stay at my place today. My bed’s bigger.”

 

Neymar smiled and stole another kiss before getting out of the car. On the way up, he realised that he hadn’t looked at his phone the entire time they’d gone out.

 

Smiling, he unlocked his phone, checking his notifications. There was one from Dani, but it was just an invite to go out for food. And, just as he was replying to a text from Rafaella, he got an incoming message from Leo.

 

_Hurry up_

 

Grinning, Neymar began to type back, but stopped when he saw Leo was typing. Sure enough, a few seconds later, another message came:

 

_I miss you, weirdo_

 

Ney sent a kiss emoji back and tucked the phone into his pocket, smiling uncontrollably. He was _so_ damned happy.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the cheesiest chapter in the universe, i know.
> 
> also, the next chapter will be posted on may 28th at 6pm est ish <3


	18. Sexy Times and Triple Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i say this a lot, but is this chapter even good? IDK. who's to SAY. anyway, have fun because i'm on time today!!

Neymar was inexplicably nervous as he stepped inside Leo’s apartment, sweat dripping down his back, his stomach jumping. He was still tipsy, his head spinning slightly, his vision blurry when he moved his head too quickly, as if he was inside a snowglobe that was being shaken. All of this coexisted with the excitement that was prickling across his spine, arousal burning through every vein he had.

 

He wanted Leo, had wanted Leo for ages. Had wanted Leo since that first party in Leo’s house, since the first time he’d gotten an erection because of Leo—all because Leo had looked at him, all because Leo had met his gaze from across the room.

 

Even now, the moment made him shiver—even now, it gave him goosebumps. He felt like he’d waited for Leo forever—nine months of forever. As he leaned against the wall in Leo’s front hallway, he tried to think of reasons to wait, but his tipsy brain couldn’t quite focus, couldn’t come up with anything rational.

 

Leo watched him, slipping out of his shoes, his bare feet suddenly visible to Neymar. It made Leo look abruptly, incredibly vulnerable and Ney felt his heart squeeze with some unknown emotion. Smiling lopsidedly, he let his head fall back with a soft _thunk_ against the wall. “I like you a lot, you know.”

 

Leo smiled. “I know,” he said agreeably, moving forwards toward Ney. He stood with one foot between Neymar’s own feet, so close that Ney could smell his soap and his cologne, a heady mix that went straight to his brain.

 

“Is Geri home?” Ney asked, his voice husky and low.

 

Leo shook his head. “He’s on a date with that girl. Shakira? I think. They’ve been all hot and heavy—he ain’t coming home.”

 

Ney was thoroughly distracted by this little tidbit of information. “What, really? Shakira? Amazing!” Utterly delighted, he laughed, thinking deliciously of all the fun he was going to have making fun of Geri.

 

“What?” Leo asked, amused.

 

Neymar shook his head, smiling. “Is this any way to treat your guest? Leaving them next to the coat closet? Aren’t you going to take me on a tour?”

 

“As always, you’re right,” Leo murmured and ducked his head for a quick kiss as if he couldn’t resist. He threaded his fingers through Ney’s and then tugged him gently further into the house. “Kitchen, living room, bathroom, Geri’s bedroom, and…” he said rapidly, dragging Neymar straight down the hallway to his bedroom. He opened the door and gestured for Neymar to enter in front of him.

 

Ney moved inside, his heart pounding. “Feel like maybe you didn’t really do your apartment justice on that tour. Feel like I got gypped.”

 

Leo pushed the door close with his toe. “Really? Well, tell you what. I'll make it up to you.”

 

Ney grinned as Leo clicked the lock shut. They fell on each other at the same time, their mouths hard and hot. Neymar pushed Leo against the door and they kissed for a while, Ney’s head spinning with pleasure as Leo slid his hand against Neymar’s nape, deepening the kiss. The minutes slipped between them, time stretching and wrapping around them, Neymar gradually growing more and more aroused.

 

“Bed, now.” Neymar almost didn’t recognize his own voice, so hoarse and needy with want. “Please,” he amended, remembering his manners.

 

Leo gave him another searing kiss before pushing him back gently, his fingers going to the hem of Neymar’s shirt. He began to pull it up and Ney willingly lifted his arms to let the T-shirt slide off him. Leo immediately followed this by pulling off his own shirt, but Neymar had no time to appreciate the view before Leo was kissing him again, hard and passionate and a little painful, but in a way that was more exciting than dampening.

 

By the time they got their pants off, they were both breathing hard, their fingers clumsy from desperation, the hunger rising and rising, making even Neymar’s skin feel like it was on fire, burning. When Leo stepped out of his boxers, Ney instantly slapped a hand against Leo’s chest, preventing him from coming back to kiss Neymar. “Wow!” he murmured. “You are _not_ small everywhere.”

 

Leo’s laugh was soft and a little rumbly. “Um, thank you?”

 

Neymar wrung his hands as Leo reached for Ney’s boxers. “I gotta tell you, though, I mean…” he said, hopping away from Leo’s grasp. “I’m not… like that…” he gestured towards Leo’s crotch where his erection stood, proud and angry and red at the tip.

 

Leo gently tugged Ney closer who went a little unwillingly. He kissed Neymar gently, softly, his mouth like a butterfly against Neymar’s. “Ney, I don’t care what you have down there. I like you. Not your dick. Though, I like your dick too,” he finished with a grin.

 

“You’re saying this,” Ney said somberly even as his chest instantly lightened, relief spreading through him. “But you have no idea that what I have down there is actually a… tiny living dinosaur who eats everything that it comes in contact with.”

 

Leo’s expression was very grave. “What’s his name?”

 

“It’s a her, actually. You need to be less sexist, buddy. Her name is Princess of Sunshine.”

 

“So her initials are… POS?”

 

Neymar struggled not to smile. “Yes,” he said, pasting on a look of suspicion. “I hope you aren’t making fun of Her Royal Highness POS. Because that would be… bullshit.”

 

“No, no, Ney, I wouldn’t ever do that. That would be… crappy of me.”

 

“Good—because you were looking a little… flushed.”

 

Leo’s grin was appreciative. “Are we going to make shitty puns all night or can I get your boxers off you?”

 

Neymar’s laugh was joyous. God, he adored Leo. He and Felipe had never joked in the bedroom—they had, in fact, laughed very little in and out of the bedroom. He flung himself at Leo and they kissed more affectionately than passionately, both of them clearly still smiling. 

 

But the atmosphere heated again and when Leo’s fingers hooked into Neymar’s boxers, Ney didn’t stop him, focusing on kissing Leo instead. They fell on the bed, cocks rubbing together, hard and leaking and so damn hot.

 

Leo mouthed against Neymar’s neck and, briefly, Ney felt slightly self-conscious of the sweat slipping down from his face, but then Leo’s tongue came out and Neymar forgot all about it. He suppressed a moan, instead uttering a soft sigh-like cry at the feeling. God, neck kissing was heaven.

 

This went on for a few minutes before Leo suddenly rolled off him, leaning towards one bedside table. He pulled out the first drawer, grabbing a bunch of condoms and tossing them on the bed. He knelt, utterly naked and unselfconscious, ripping open a package. He tossed it to Neymar. Ney wore it as hurriedly as he could, anxious to get back down to business.

 

They fell back into kissing as if they’d never been interrupted. It turned sloppy and passionate as their excitement and arousal began to peak. When Leo’s hand slid gently down Neymar’s chest, Ney knew what was going to happen. His heart thumped as Leo’s palm rubbed against his pubic bone, teasing Ney before he finally reached down, his warm palm covering Neymar’s cock. Ney gasped a little, his dick jerking in reaction, pulsing in Leo’s hand. Before he could appreciate Leo’s fingers for much longer, Messi had moved down and taken him into his mouth.

 

Ney closed his eyes, his fingers grasping Leo’s hair as he focused on the sensations. “You are… you are really good at that,” he gasped out, his voice unsteady.

 

And Leo was. He deep throated Neymar easily, his gag reflex almost nonexistent. His mouth was hot and wet around Ney’s dick and his tongue constantly flicked and moved inside his mouth, providing extra sensation. He used his hand for when he bobbed up and down, his fist tight and good.

 

Soon, Ney was arching up, lost in feeling, the pleasure sweeping across him. He didn’t want to come so fast, wanted to prolong the sensation, but he’d wanted Leo for too long and Leo was way too good at blowjobs. Before long, he was making a low guttural sound in his throat, coming hard.

 

Leo didn’t stop, his eyes on Ney’s face as Neymar spasmed helplessly in his mouth, wringing more response from what was already a peak of sensation. By the time Ney was pushing him off, Leo looked smug and tender, that unholy combination, gently unrolling the used condom before dropping it into a tissue on his bedside table.

 

Ney lay there, his eyelids half open, watching Leo as came closer. They kissed softly, Leo’s erection against Neymar’s thigh, still hard and clearly aroused. “Let me,” Neymar said, making to get up, but Leo held a hand on Ney’s shoulder.

 

“Just lay there. Give me your hand.” And placing Neymar’s hand around Leo's cock, Leo then covered Ney's fingers with his own and slowly they moved their fists together. It felt almost romantic, Leo’s sighs against his shoulder, the night warm and still around them, the silence of the apartment more erotic than eerie. And when Leo finally came into another tissue, he made a soft sound and gently bit into Neymar’s shoulder, the sensation more ticklish than painful, his dick convulsing in Ney’s fist.

 

Leo tossed the tissue on his bedside table and Ney laughed softly between lazy kisses. “I’m already messing your place up,” he murmured.

 

“Mm,” Leo said, clearly too high off his orgasm to reply. Ney, on the other hand, had had enough time to recover and was wide awake.

 

“We didn’t even get around to having sex.”

 

Leo opened his eyes at that. “Ney, we just had sex.”

 

Neymar slid his leg in between Leo’s. “Did I fall asleep during that bit?”

 

Leo’s grin was amused. He pulled Ney closer, kissing him. “Ney, you idiot. Sex doesn’t have to be penetration every single time, you know. You should stop defining sex by those standards.”

 

Leo’s eyes were drifting close again, but Ney stared at his face, stunned by what Leo had said. He’d never considered that. Truth was, Felipe had been Ney’s only experience at gay sex and Felipe had never really taught him much. In Ney’s mind, he still constrained himself to heterosexual standards. It was eye-opening that Leo didn’t hold himself inside those boxes and also infinitely relieving. Like a load had been taken off Ney’s chest.

 

“So what do you consider sex?” Ney murmured. No one was at home, but Leo was so clearly sleepy and low whispers seemed to fit the atmosphere better.

 

“Not what I consider sex, but what we consider sex,” Leo responded, his voice low. His eyes were still closed. “I think what we had was sex. What do you think?”

 

Neymar smiled, feeling a sudden rush of affection for Leo. “I do, too.”

 

Leo seemed to hear the smile in Ney’s smile because his eyes opened. He smiled at Ney. “You good?”

 

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

 

It was the truth.

 

* * *

 

It was technically getting very close to the end of the semester and Neymar _should_ have been studying, but he found himself absolutely distracted by Leo. In a good way. Leo wasn’t as into academics as Ney and it was obvious that, of the two, Ney was probably smarter. He lacked Leo’s instinctive emotional intelligence, though, and of course, he absolutely lacked Leo’s athleticism so perhaps the divisions were fair.

 

They spent a blissful week getting to know each other. They had sex as frequently as they wanted—which was a lot, come to think of it—but penetration never happened, which Neymar was fine with. It would happen with time, or it wouldn't—it didn't really matter. The fact was, they enjoyed each other's company and Ney realised that Leo was a lot funnier and more voluble than he'd thought, his jokes careful and witty, unexpected and always side-splittingly funny. 

 

They were incredibly comfortable with each other, which Ney found extremely surprising. He was relaxed around Leo in a way that he wasn't with anyone else. The thing was, he didn't just find himself attracted to Messi—he also really liked him. They liked each other, in fact. It was never boring. They spent nights watching TV in silence, holding hands or cuddling, or sometimes just sitting on the couch, talking and kissing and talking and kissing.

 

It was heaven.

 

And, though they weren't exactly sneaking around, nobody really walked in on them or came across them. A couple of times Geri came home and saw Leo and Ney on the couch together, but both times they hadn’t been kissing or doing anything _sexual_ , per se, so Geri had simply waved and exchanged a few words—mostly enduring ribbing about his hot and heavy start with Shakira—before disappearing again.

 

But not only was Leo distracting him from his studies, Ney forgot about texting or calling anyone back. He sent his mother to voicemail five times and ignored all of Rafaella’s texts, promising himself he’d reply “when he had the time”, but there was very little time when he spent all day and night with Leo.

 

He also kept forgetting to reply to Dani or Marcelo—which he finally realised was a giant mistake on the eighth night he’d stayed at Leo’s place.

 

He woke up to a one very succinct text from Dani:

 

_Call me as soon as you see this. Urgent. Not a joke._

 

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he peeked at Leo, who was naked from the waist up and snoring softly. Smiling, he kissed Leo lightly on the shoulder before slipping out of bed and tiptoeing into the living room.

 

He pressed the call button next to Dani’s name and waited as it rung. Dani picked up on the third ring.

 

“Ney?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled.

 

“Yeah, man. What’s up? Everything okay?”

 

“Gimme a sec.” There was the sound of rustling and movements and then Ney distinctly heard Joana’s voice in the background murmuring something. Dani replied to her before Ney heard more movements. After a minute or so, Dani’s voice finally came back on the line—crisp and sharp. “Hey. How are you?”

 

“I’m good,” Ney said, slightly taken aback. “What’s wrong with you, though?”

 

“I’m great. But I wanted to tell you a story.”

 

“What?” Neymar asked, not understanding.

 

“Yeah, you got a minute?”

 

Ney spluttered a bit. “A story? Dani, what’re you talking about? You freaked me out! And now you’re telling me you just wanted to tell me a story?”

 

“Just listen.” Dani’s voice was crisp and serious and that was what made Neymar quieten. He kept silent as Dani took a deep breath. “So I met Marcelo yesterday. Guess what he told me?”

 

“What?” Neymar was still confused.

 

“Well, I asked him how you were. And he got really surprised and said that he was just about to ask me how you were. Said he hasn’t seen you in more than a week. That you don’t study at the library. You just disappeared one day, saying you were sick and then you just never came back for the next two days. That he kept texting and even called a couple of times, but you didn’t reply.”

 

“Dani—”

 

“No, I’m not done. Listen. So Marcelo was worried and he called up your roommate who also said he hadn’t seen you in a couple of days, but that you left him a note saying you’d be back in a bit because you were going to stay at a friend’s place. By that point, it was 3 days since Marcelo had seen you and he was freaking out and thinking about going to the police, but luckily for you, that very day, he ran into Geri. That was four days ago.” Dani paused, his voice clipped and slightly angry. “Do you need me to go on?”

 

Neymar had sat down somewhere in the middle of this recitation, his palm against his forehead, feeling guilty and sick. “Oh, God, Dani, I didn’t even think of him being upset. It never even occurred to me.”

 

“Yeah because you’re a giant idiot. Can’t you just reply that you’re fine but busy? It takes one goddamn minute.”

 

“I didn’t think,” Neymar moaned. “God, I feel so bad. I should call him back and apologise right now.”

 

“Yeah, do it after this call. But before that, you better ‘fess up to me right now.”

 

Neymar paused, his heart pounding. “About what?”

 

“Ney,” Dani said very gently. “Marcelo just thinks you’re studying with Leo and Geri’s too caught up with Shakira to really think it through or he would have seen through that lie in five minutes.” He let a beat pass before continuing, his voice very soft: “It is a lie, isn’t it?”

 

Neymar didn’t know what to say. The truth was, he hated lying to Dani, but he also didn’t want to do this without Leo. Leo was just so much more adept at handling situations like this, so calm and stoic in all high drama situations. “Dani…”

 

“Just tell me the truth, Neymar.”

 

“We… we’ve been… we’re…” What were they? They weren’t boyfriends, were they? Were they dating? Were they friends with benefits? No, they were more than that.

 

“You’ve been together all these days, right?”

 

“Yes,” Neymar whispered, his voice very small.

 

“You like each other, right?”

 

“Yeah. I didn’t… I wanted to tell you, Dani, but it just started and it’s been such a whirlwind—” Neymar started desperately, but Dani interrupted him.

 

“Idiot,” Dani said affectionately. “I’m only mad cause you disappeared on us without a single explanation. I’m not mad about the rest of it. But,” he continued cheerfully, “Since you scared us all to death, you're gonna have to be punished.”

 

Neymar was starting to get a bad feeling. “Uh… What punishment?”

 

“You have to go on a triple date with me and Geri.”

 

Yup, bad feeling justified. “That’s a double date and hell to the no.”

 

“Oh, Neymar,” Dani said, laughing. “Didn’t you understand? Me, Joana, Geri, Shakira, you, Leo. Dinner. How fun.”

 

Neymar sat down heavily, his mouth numb, absolutely aghast.

 

He was fucked.

 

* * *

  

He knew he was going to get dragged over the coals and that happened almost immediately enough. It seemed Dani had briefed the rest of them on his conversation with Neymar because, when the car stopped in front of he and Leo, all four of the car’s occupants simultaneously began to whistle and cheer out of the open car windows.

 

Leo seemed simply amused and unbothered, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. Neymar, however, was red and flushed, his head whirling around to see if anyone else was watching this horrorfest.

 

“Will you guys shut up?” he hissed, leaning into the open car window.

 

“Absolutely not,” Dani sang from the driver’s seat, waggling his fingers in welcome. Joana, Shakira and Geri were all laughing like the terrible people they were.

 

“Wait, I thought Geri was going to get his own car? How’re we all going to fit?”

 

When Leo’s hand came to rest lightly on Neymar’s back, he knew the answer to that. Blinking, he looked around at all of their faces and then shook his head. “No, no, no, no. No, Geri. Your car is right there!” He pointed at the entrance to the underground parking. “You can get it!”

 

Geri cocked his head, his face innocent. “It’s at the mechanic’s. Getting serviced. That’s why Dani picked me up from Shakira’s place.”

 

Neymar scrambled up to look at Leo who was trying not to smile. “Leo?!” he asked, his voice squeaking.

 

Leo grinned, the hand on Neymar’s back sliding down to sit at his hip. “It’s alright. It might be fun.” He raised his eyebrows.

 

There was a chorus of more _ooh_ s from inside the car, but Ney ignored them, his gaze locked on Leo’s face, cheeks reddened and eyes very dark. He felt a pulse of arousal between them. They’d had a lot of fun just that morning in the shower and he suddenly could remember every moment, the water cascading down on Leo’s pale skin, the contrast between their bodies beautiful as Leo’s fist had stroked him into a knee-weakeningly good orgasm.

 

Fuck.

 

He wrenched his gaze away, trying to ignore his sudden arousal and Leo’s heated gaze and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Fine. But know that I hate all of you.”

 

“Even Leo?” Shakira joked from inside the car.

 

Ney ignored her. He watched as Leo clambered into the final remaining seat and then looked up at Neymar almost inquiringly. Ney felt his cheeks heat up as he saw everyone grinning at them both, but they didn’t know that Ney was also fighting his own erection and a burning urge to drag Leo back up to his bedroom to make out. Instead, taking a deep breath, he climbed in and then gingerly perched on Leo’s knees, turning sideways to make room for his own knees and bumping into Geri’s thighs.

 

Geri was grinning at him. “Hey, sexy.”

 

“Shut up,” Neymar groused, trying to balance most of his weight on his legs, feeling terribly uncomfortable.

 

Leo’s arm came around his waist. “Move down a bit—you’ll get more room.”

 

Hesitating, Ney darted a glance at Leo’s face and saw that his eyes were very dark again. Neymar swallowed and shifted down, keeping his gaze on Leo’s, until his thigh just very gently bumped against Leo’s erection. Flushing, Ney looked away, trying to ignore the way Leo’s hand gently squeezed his side.

 

“So tell us how this happened,” Joana said, smiling, twisting around in her seat to look at them both.

 

“Because of us!” Dani shouted from the front as he merged into the lane, slowly speeding up. “Me and my boy Pique, we made this shit happen!” He held his hand up without looking and Geri leaned forward to high five him.

 

“Yeah, we did this!”

 

“You two didn’t do anything!” Neymar said hotly. “In fact, you probably made it worse!”

 

Shakira leaned forward, looking past Geri, her face concerned. “Did they really?”

 

Geri crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at Ney. “Don’t lie, Ney. How did we make things worse?”

 

Neymar looked at Leo for help, who was smiling. Leo shrugged in response and Ney glared at him. “You’re no help at all.” He turned back to Dani and Geri. “You guys meddled! You were so annoying. What if we hadn’t even liked each other?”

 

“We did it because we knew you two liked each other!” Dani said smugly. He overtook another car smoothly, waving thanks to a car for letting him merge in.

 

“No, you didn’t!”

 

“You were pretty obvious,” Geri said wisely, nodding, sliding an arm around Shakira who smiled up at him and nestled closer.

 

“Hey, no one’s answering my question,” Joana complained. “How did it happen?”

 

“I’ll tell you!” Geri chimed in, shoving Neymar hard enough that he fell into Leo’s chest, but not hard enough to hurt. Leo chuckled in his ear. “So Neymar wanted to meet Leo really badly, so he asks Dani here for an introduction.”

 

“Ooh,” Joana said, her eyes large.

 

“That’s not—”

 

 “So, anyway,” Geri went on, ignoring Neymar. “So they meet and there’s this instant weird chemistry, right? So I right away offer Neymar a ride home cause I know something’s up and I need to know who this guy is. And I invite him to the party we’re having in a few days.”

 

By now, Ney had fallen silent, listening to this version. The truth was, apart from the real reason he’d wanted an introduction, the rest of it was absolutely true. And now he wanted to know Geri’s version—an outsider’s perspective of what had happened between him and Leo.

 

“Yeah, and at the party,” Dani cut in, “They have this weird moment. I go to the bathroom and I see Leo and Ney talking outside and they’re having this real intense moment, but I can’t hear anything cause the party’s too loud, right? But the chemistry, man. You could _cut_ the sexual tension with a knife.”

 

Leo’s fingers threaded through Neymar and Ney turned to face him, his heart thudding in his chest. Leo’s expression was soft and filled with something Ney couldn’t quite identify. Nostalgia? He wasn’t sure. But he smiled at Leo, feeling his heart squeeze.

 

“So, then,” Geri said, picking up the narrative, squeezing Shakira closer. “The next day, Leo tells me he kinda had a weird encounter with this guy, Neymar, and that Ney had said something about his ex to Leo. Mind you, Leo never talks about guys to me. Never.

 

“So right away I know this is gonna happen, but that these two are useless.” He jerked a thumb at Neymar and Leo. “Dani and I end up talking to each other and we put the pieces together. Then, we make it happen!” he added triumphantly, and he and Dani high-fived again.

 

Ney tuned out as they began to recount all the “matchmaking” attempts they’d made, smiling at Leo instead. “You never talked about other guys, huh? Was I that special?” he teased, his voice very low.

 

Leo’s eyes were gleaming. “I thought you were weird more than anything,” he said, shrugging. “Big Brazilian weirdo.”

 

Neymar fake gasped and, laughing, Leo leaned up to kiss him. As was the case for them, the instant sexual heat between them ignited into flames and the kiss deepened, Neymar sinking into Leo, his fingers clutching at Leo’s shirt. They kissed slowly, tongues touching, wet and passionate.

 

It was only Geri clearing his throat that made Neymar lurch backwards, flushing. He looked around—both Joana and Shakira had averted their eyes respectfully, but Geri was openly watching them while Dani eyed them from the rearview mirror. “Do you guys get the concept of privacy?” he grumbled.

 

“Do you get the concept of PDA is gross?”

 

Neymar gasped, about to retort that Dani had practically fingered Joana one time in the car in front of he and Ter Stegen, but he clicked his teeth together, not wanting to embarrass Joana. Shakira saved him.

 

“Come on, they’re so cute,” she said, beaming at them.

 

Er. That might be worse than Pique and Dani teasing him, now that he thought about it. Neymar cleared his throat. “Aren’t we there yet?”

 

“Five minutes,” Dani replied, turning into an intersection.

 

Joana turned back to Geri. “So finish!”

 

“So both Dani and I—we have no idea why these two aren’t talking. All we know is that they’re totally miserable. Ney is all mopey and Leo doesn’t smile at anything. He asks about Ney all the time, but he never says his name.”

 

“What?” Ney said, leaning forward. He hadn’t heard this. He could feel Leo’s fingers briefly tighten in his and Ney squeezed it in return.

 

Geri turned to Ney. “Oh, look who’s interested now. Leo would only say ‘he’ or ‘him’. _So how is he? Is he okay? Did they discharge him from the hospital?_ ” Geri twisted to look at Leo, but Leo wasn’t looking at them—his gaze instead focused through the window, strong emotion passing across his face. His hand was still gripping Neymar’s tightly and Ney felt a wave of half-sorrow, half-joy spread through his chest, remembering the conversation they'd had after he'd punched Leo.

 

Ney wished they were alone suddenly—he desperately wanted Leo to know how much he cared, how grateful he was that he was with Leo, that Leo had chosen him, but they wouldn’t be alone now for hours. Sighing, he tried something else. He knew Leo too well to say anything, but he placed his free hand on Leo’s chest, feeling his heartbeat thunder under his palm. He rubbed Leo’s chest gently, his fingers stroking softly. Slowly, Leo’s heart slowed under his hand, coming to a quiet rhythm just as the car came to a stop, Dani pulling into a parking spot near to the entrance of the restaurant.

 

When Neymar scrambled out of the car, he waited for Leo to get out of the car before he slipped his arms around Leo’s neck. They hugged for a long while, Leo gently kissing his ear before they stepped back, smiling at each other.

 

Ney’s fingers slid through Leo’s and they walked together to the restaurant, Ney fully at peace.

 

* * *

 

The dinner was predictable: an absolute riot with Neymar getting teased the most, Leo mostly unperturbed, though he did step in once or twice and deliver zingers which left them in stitches. By the time they got back to Leo’s apartment, having dropped off Geri at Shakira’s place, everyone was a little tipsy and thoroughly giddy.

 

Neymar leaned against Leo in the elevator, talking about the evening together, raving about how good the steak had been. Leo was very tactile, his hands constantly on Neymar as it had been throughout the night. It had made Ney feel both cherished and a tiny bit excited in a way that he couldn’t explain—almost like a secret language between them.

 

They stumbled into Leo’s apartment, giggling as they kissed their way to Leo’s bedroom, dropping the leftovers on Leo’s bedside table instead of the fridge. As they broke apart to undress, Leo sat down on his bed to take his socks off and then suddenly paused.

 

“You know, you never told me why you wanted an introduction with me. Was it really curiosity?”

 

Neymar looked at Leo, hesitating. “I don’t… well, no,” he hedged. “It wasn’t curiosity.”

 

“Then what…?” And that’s when Leo’s forehead cleared, his eyes widening. “No! Rafaella?”

 

Ney kept silent, his eyes pleading. He couldn’t betray Rafaella, but he also couldn’t lie to Leo, not after everything that had happened between them. He let his eyes speak for him—begging Leo to drop it. Maybe Leo understood because he got up and came over, gently kissing Neymar on the mouth.

 

“Have you told her?” Leo asked softly.

 

“No,” Ney confessed. “I’m scared she’ll hate me forever.”

 

“She’ll hate you more if you don’t tell her the truth and she finds out some other way,” Leo said gently, massaging Ney’s neck.

 

Sighing, Neymar smiled. “I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

 

“Good. Now, let’s get these pants off you cause I’ve been waiting to do this to you all night.”

 

Ney’s laugh was low. “Oh, no, no. I have plans for tonight. Today, you better bring out the lube.” He pressed his body against Leo, his lips brushing Leo’s.

 

Leo stilled. “Are you sure?” he asked, his breaths heavy and labored.

 

“Very, very sure.”

 

When Leo kissed him this time, it was hard and hot, teeth scraping against Neymar’s. Ney moaned deep in his throat, his head spinning from the alcohol and the arousal in his veins.

 

They undressed quickly, not bothering with foreplay—they’d waited far too long to do this and they were both dying for it. Neymar arranged the cushions in a pile before laying down on his stomach, his ass raised and bared for Leo.

 

He heard the rummaging in the drawer, Leo reaching for the lube and the condoms. There was an agonizing wait while Leo wore the condom, the wrapper crinkling in the silence of the room, Neymar offered up as a gift, growing more and more aroused and embarrassed in his position.

 

When Leo’s finger first rubbed against his anus, hot and lubricated, Neymar made a soft sound of longing. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening after he’d dreamed of this moment for ages. The first entry was as awkward as he'd expected; Leo’s fingers felt too thick and a little uncomfortable, the slight burn of stretch evident. But Leo was patient, using plenty of lube and scissoring in Neymar’s ass, letting him stretch out.

The preparation seemed to go on forever—and, although Leo wasn’t stimulating his prostate just yet, it was still extremely arousing. Ney was getting desperate: the sweat dripping down his forehead onto the pillow under him, his body unconsciously rutting against the cushions under his crotch, trying to ease the ache.

 

Finally, he couldn’t take it. “Please, enough.”

 

That was all Leo needed. And he took his fingers out of Neymar and then made a soft sound of discovery. “You should see yourself right now: open and waiting for me.”

 

The words painted such a dirty, arousing picture that Neymar involuntarily clenched, humping into the cushion underneath him. “Please.”

 

When Leo’s cock finally began to enter him, it hurt—almost more than Ney had imagined. It always hurt more than he expected. Maybe the pleasure afterwards blunted the memories of the first painful entry. Like a mom forgetting how painful birthing was.

 

But when Leo was flush against him, his cock buried to the hilt, he leaned over Neymar, pressing a kiss against his back, licking an errant sweat droplet. “Are you ready?”

 

“So much,” Ney gritted out, wanting this more than the pain could stop him.

 

Leo began to move, angling downwards to hit the prostate and when he finally found it, Neymar reacted by clenching down on Leo’s cock. Leo uttered a soft growl before thrusting in that angle, slowly at first, then quicker.

 

He followed Neymar’s breathing and his body language: knowing to slow down when Neymar seemed too agitated, and pounding hard when Ney began to relax—almost a game of cat and mouse, bringing Ney to the edge, and then dragging him back.

 

By the third time, Neymar was a mess. “Please, please, please,” he sobbed.

 

This time, Leo pounded him into the bed and finished it off. Neymar came without a hand on his own cock, came untouched, hard and hot, and crying out with a shout of pleasure, face screwed up.

 

He only vaguely noticed Leo coming a few minutes later and when he rolled off Ney, Neymar fell fully asleep as if he’d been drugged.

 

He didn’t awaken when Leo dipped into bed beside him, or when Leo kissed his shoulder good night. And he didn’t wake when Leo murmured _sweetheart_ to him before turning the lights off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfortunately, i will be moving to a new country in a couple of weeks so i'm going to be a tiny bit busy over the next few weeks. i will try to update the next chapter on june 11th at 6 pm est ish, but please know it might not happen.


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